


watch the sun rise

by xivz



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedsharing, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Demon slaying, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fairies, Fights, Found Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting Back Together, Goblins, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Romance, Shenny - Freeform, Slow Burn, SnowBaz, Texting, The third gate, True Love, Vampire Bites, Vampire Slaying, Vampires, Watford (Simon Snow), Written Pre-AWTWB, fairy lore, hand holding, the sixth white hare, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-01-16 11:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 64,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz
Summary: Adulthood is supposed to be Simon Snow’s happily ever after. Instead, he’s adjusting to mundanity as well as a former Chosen One could - awfully. (Honestly what the fuck is he doing with his life?)  At twenty-three he thinks he’s done with the adventures. The problem is that trouble tends to look for Simon.This time he’s taken back to Watford School of Magicks. To open the Third Gate, slay the Sixth White Hare, and maybe find the fairies in the process. Meanwhile, the NowNext are setting up shop in London, his ex-girlfriend is unofficially a vampire slayer, his best friend’s in love with a Normal, said Normal is still cursed and running out of time, the dead spots are closing (maybe Simon isn’t as Normal as he thought), and on top of all of it - Baz is back in the country after being abroad for several years, looking good enough to eat.And Simon is still hopelessly in love with him.





	1. Chapter 1

** SIMON **

The beach here is so different from back home. The sand is a sugar white and the water is pure blue, and the sky is bright. America’s sky is so  _ bright  _ and  _ big _ , and  _ open _ . I’ve got my jeans rolled up above my ankles, but the water is still soaking the fabric - it’s fine though, Penny’ll magic it dry for me. I came out here because I didn’t know what to do with myself inside Agatha’s flat. Aggie was talking to her friend Ginger about her dog Lucy, Penny was double-checking everything, Shepard was out on the balcony and Baz was in the shower.

Thinking of Baz reminds me that I have his mother’s scarf in my pocket. It’s silky soft and, despite its travels, still smells vaguely of Baz.

I force myself to think of Baz. I have to. I love him so fucking much that it hurts, and I know that I’ve been holding him back. Just the reminder of him in Las Vegas, fitting in snuggly with the other vampires - with Lamb. Fuck Lamb. I’m not even sure if he’s dead, everything had happened so quickly (I kind of hope that he is, wanker). All I can remember was seeing fire and seeing Baz and needing to get Baz  _ away  _ from the flames. 

“Alright?” Speak of the devil. I have to close one eye to glance up at him, due to the sun haloing behind his head. Crowley, he’s beautiful.

“Hey,” I say. His trousers are rolled up like mine and he sits down on the ground beside me, gracefully. He’s close enough that I can smell his shampoo - it’s Agatha’s shampoo, so Baz smells like strawberries, but it works for him. Everything works for him. 

“Enjoying the water?” He asks me. 

We talk a little, when was the last time we had an actual conversation? When did we stop having deeper discussions? I know it’s because of me, I know that our disconnect is all my fault. I pushed Baz away and he stopped trying, probably out of respect for me, but sometimes I want him to reach over and just grab me. I want to hold his hand right now, but he feels so far from me. I’m watching the waves when I suggest that he stay here, in America. In Las Vegas. 

“What?” Baz snaps his eyes to my face, his tone incredulous. “Why would you even say that?”

“It’s just,” I’m picking at the fray of my jeans’ cuff. “You fit in there. It’s just that, it’s just - I just. I mean, I think you. Baz, I think you’d be happier there, with other vampires.” With Lamb is left implied. 

“No.” He’s scowling at me. I wish I could kiss him, he said that I could, he said that I’d never had to ask. I want to kiss him, but I’m scared to. “Why would you even say that? Crowley, I would  _ not  _ be happy there.”

It’s a lie, but I don’t think he even realizes it. I think he thinks he’d be happier coming back home with us. With me. To London. 

I want to tell him that I bloody saw how he was with Lamb. How he easily allowed himself to be seduced by that lifestyle. How he almost allowed himself to be seduced by  _ Lamb _ . How I wouldn’t blame him for that, if that’s what he wants, because Lamb treated him the way Baz deserves to be treated. I’ve been wrapped up inside my misery for so long that I’ve neglected him. I’ve truly been a terrible boyfriend and he deserves so much more than what I can offer him. 

_ I love you _ . I want to tell him.  _ I love you, I love you,  _ ** _ I’m in love with you _ ** . The words are frozen in my throat. Lodged behind my tongue. He’s too much to look at so I stare down at the sand, at the seafoam lapping at our feet, at the shells that continue to be covered and uncovered on the shore. 

There’s a lot left unsaid between us. I wet my lips and try to breathe in the salty air, gathering my courage. I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow uselessly before opening my eyes again and looking at Baz.  _ I love you.  _ “When someone shows you who they are, you should believe them.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Baz’s face is contorted into confusion. I don’t blame him, because I don’t think I quite understand what I’m saying to him either, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I need to let him go, it’s not fair that he’s saddled with me. 

“Baz, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. For weeks, actually.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Snow?”

“You fell in love with what I  _ was _ . Power and potential, unchained. I’m a bloody Normal now, and I’ve been selfish by trying to keep you with me. It’s not fair to you. I hate watching you suffer, I hate being the reason you suffer, and you’re too kind a person to do it so I’m doing it.” As I speak my voice gradually becomes lower, softer. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, a lot of time to practice how I was going to say it, and I’m proud of myself for being able to say it without tripping over my words.

“Are you serious?” He’s gone paler than usual. He’s smart, he can piece this together fairly well. His eyes have darkened, storm cloud grey, and he’s sucking on his lower lip to prevent it from quivering. Fuck, this hurts. All I seem to be able to do is hurt him.

“Baz,” I swallow uselessly. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Why can't you see that I wouldn't be happy anywhere without you?” Baz blurts out.

Fuck. He sounds desperate. His words reverberate in my head.

He probably thinks that he means it. Magicians are honor-bound, I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t realize that the only reason he’s stayed with me this long is because of that. He’s not happy with me. I love him, I love him so much. But I’ve got to do the right thing.

“I think we should break up.” 

** BAZ **

A month ago I would have tried to touch his shoulder, pulled him to me, and attempt to rationalize. 

Three months ago I would have tackled him and forced him to listen to me on why this was a terrible idea.

Last September this wouldn’t have even been a passing thought.

Now, however, I can only stare at him dumbly. I can’t quite describe how it is I’m feeling, but I know that I can’t breathe. I’m cold despite the heat of summer, and there’s a lump in my throat that I can’t quite swallow. What was this entire trip then? Was this Simon’s idea of a final hurrah before ending things? No, I refuse to allow this to happen.

“You can’t mean that,” I say. “Simon, please, you can’t mean that.”

Simon’s crying, his face hidden in his knees. “You deserve so much better than me.”

I can’t help but stare at him. Is this what he honestly thinks? That I’m too good for him? I can still see him on the ground, surrounded by blood, his wing bent wrong. I can never unsee that. Can never un-feel the fear of Simon Snow being dead, of being somewhere I couldn’t follow. Of being away from me. Now he’s still trying to leave me.

“I don’t want anyone else,” I say desperately. “I love you.”

If anything my admission just causes Simon to cry harder. He’s got his hands tugging at his curls, “I love you too.” He sobs.

He's never said it to me before, and it hurts that he’s telling me now. Like this. “Then,” I don’t know what to say. Then don’t break up with me? Then why are you hurting me? Then why are you doing this? Then, then, then -  _ stop _ !

When he lifts his head, tears are running down his face and his nose is red and his eyes are beginning to puff. “I’m so in love with you. I love you, but I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Doing what to me, Simon?” I ask, and I’m leaning forward, my knees drawn up. I’m starting to feel hollowed out. “What do you think that you’re doing to me?”

“I’m not treating you right, Baz,” Simon says. “Fucking Lamb treated you better in those two days than I have in months. It’s not fair to you.”

“Lamb?” I repeat. “What?” I’m so confused, I don’t like feeling this way. So I say, “I don’t understand.” 

Simon is scrubbing at his face, but it’s useless because more tears are falling down his ruddy cheeks. I want to reach over and wipe them away for him, to press my cool fingers to his eyelids to help with the swelling. I want to hold him close to me and force him to stay with me. I just want him. I want Simon in any way he’s willing to give himself to me. 

“When someone shows you who they are, you should believe them.” He repeats. Where did he even bloody hear that expression? Why is he so stuck on it? “I’ve shown you how shitty I am. I’ve shown you that I’m just a loser, a has-been, I’m not right for you. I’m not  _ enough  _ for you, Baz. You deserve someone who can be there for you, who can treat you right, who isn’t as fucked up as I am. I’m so fucked up, and I’m miserable and I don’t need to keep dragging you down with me. And I know you’re tired of this, fuck,  _ I’m  _ tired of it. I’m so tired of it, of me, of us being this way. Of treating you this way.”

It’s the most he’s ever spoken without stuttering or stammering. It’s something that he’s thought a lot about - breaking up with me. This is the most he's truly spoken to me in months.

“I’ve made you feel that you’re not good enough for me?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all that I can manage. I wonder if I look as stricken as I feel. I must, because he looks as if he wants to reach over, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t in a while. I suppose our night kissing under the stars in the bed of a pickup truck was truly us kissing each other goodbye.

“No, you’re wonderful and all things good. You’re so good.” Simon says the words forcefully, “it’s  _ me _ , Baz!”

It’s not you, it’s me. I’d have thought that he could have done better than use a cliche to break things off with me. I want to argue with him, tell him that it's because he's depressed. It's because he's been through so much and now he's just a little lost. That we could get through this together if he allows it. But then we might just come to blows, just like in Las Vegas, and I don’t want that.

“I’m not,” I want to say that I’m not miserable. I want to say that everything he’s saying is false, that he does treat me right. Six months ago that would have rung true. Now? The truth is that he’s distanced himself so well, he’s built so many walls, that I can’t seem to tear them down to get closer to him. I love him, I’ve always loved him, and he loves me. 

I’m staring at him as the first tear decides to make its way down my face.

“Baz,” Simon starts, but I’m standing up and walking away.

I’m gathering my shoes by the rocks when Penelope finds me. 

“Hey, we’re leaving - what’s wrong?” Her tone is alarmed. 

I’m cleaning the sand from the soles of my feet and putting my socks and shoes on. The tears are still falling without my permission. “He broke up with me.”

“He  _ what _ ?” Penny asks, disbelief evident on her features. “  _ What _ ? But, but he loves you.”

I shake my head at her, “I’m going back to the flat. Snow’s still out on the surf.”

Penny’s hand is hot as she touches my forearm and squeezes. “We’ll sort this out, Basil. He’s just being stupid.”

I wish it were that simple.

Instead, I shake my head again. What is there to sort out? Simon Snow is in love with me, the man I’ve been head over heels for since I was fifteen reciprocates my feelings. I should be rejoicing, but he doesn’t want me. Simon doesn’t want me because he thinks he doesn’t deserve me, whatever the fuck that means. It’s bullshit.

As I’m walking off I can hear Bunce giving Snow an earful. Perks of being a vampire. She’s laying it to him thickly, and I appreciate the effort that she’s making on my behalf. I do. But Simon is stubborn, and once he’s made up his mind that’s it.

** AGATHA **

Shepard and I are chatting in the kitchen over sandwiches. I’ve made some for everyone, I have to use what perishables that I have before I leave. I don’t plan on staying in England for longer than necessary, but one never knows, and I don’t want my food to spoil.

Shepard is quite interesting, he’s got stories to tell about every magical creature I’ve heard of and more. How has a Normal managed to be so well connected? It must be his non-threatening aura and his level-headedness. Honestly, it’s refreshing to speak to someone so calm and laid back.

He’s in the middle of telling me a story about a troll that has me in stitches, covering my mouth as I guffaw unattractively when the door to my apartment opens.

Baz comes in quietly. He always moves like that, light on his feet. I hadn’t realized it was a vampire trait until I was kidnapped by them. They’re all graceful, though not all of them are as attractive as Baz. He’s only getting better looking as we’ve gotten older, and he has good genetics to thank for that.

“I’ve made you a sandwich, Basil,” I say to him before my voice temporarily dies in my throat.

I’ve never seen Basilton look this way, his expression is one of distress and he’s got tears tracking down his chiseled cheeks. I can tell he’s trying to come across as composed, and that he’s attempting to hide his face behind a curtain of hair, but it doesn’t do anything. Shepard and I both saw it. Even crying he’s heartbreakingly beautiful, almost hauntingly so.

“What?” Shepard starts, but then quickly shuts up. His wide brown eyes glance over to me and then back to Baz, and then he wisely takes his sandwich outside to my balcony.

“Where are Simon and Penny?” I ask Baz as I hand him the box of tissues that I keep on the counter. I’m polite enough to not mention the fact that he’s crying. 

“Beach,” Baz mutters. I’ve never heard him be so ineloquent. He’s cleaning his face with the tissues and once he’s done he pulls his hair up in a low bun. “Thank you.”

“Did you and Simon have a row?” I can’t help but ask. We’ve been through some trauma together, I feel as if that gives me some right into the life of the mysterious Baz Pitch.

Baz shakes his head. “No.”

I thought that would be the end of it. He’s never been one to just give out information about himself, I think he enjoys being seen as an enigma. 

Baz sniffles pathetically. “He broke up with me.” 

Oh bloody fuck, I did not expect him to tell me anything. That just shows how upset he is that he’s willingly sharing this with  _ me  _ of all people. There come more tears, and I almost regret asking. Instead, I take Baz by the hand and lead him into my bathroom so that we can use a damp washcloth. We’re needing to leave soon to catch our flight, but I’m not going to rush him. I clean his face for him softly and tuck errant strands of his black hair behind his ear. Basil and I aren’t close, not in the slightest, but we’re still somewhat friends. We get on decently I suppose. This may be the first real conversation that we’ve had with each other outside of school, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy him sobbing over his broken heart. 

I sigh, why the hell would Simon think that it was a good idea to break up with his boyfriend in a foreign country right before they have to board an 11-hour flight back home together? God, he is such a moron. 

“I’m sorry,” Baz manages to croak, “I don’t mean to be so emotional.”

I can’t help but huff a small laugh. Of course, he’s apologizing for this. He’s British through and through. “Basil, it’s okay to cry.”

I want to add that he’s just had his heart broken, but I know that won’t make things better. I want to tell him that he and Simon would work through this, and maybe they will, but Simon is stubborn, and once he’s made up his mind on something he’ll stick to it. 

Baz doesn’t say anything. His misery is palpable, and it’s making me feel sad too. 

“Come on,” I nudge him gently on his shoulder. He doesn’t budge an inch, it’s almost like trying to push against a wall. “Eat some food, it’ll help. Have you drank today?”

Baz nods and stands. “Thank you, Agatha.”

“You’re welcome,” I tell him, and I mean it. 

** SHEPARD **

I’m not sure if my going on this trip to England with them is a smart decision. There’s some tension here that I just can’t seem to comprehend. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on between Simon and Baz. Then again I couldn’t even tell that they were boyfriends when we first met, I thought Baz was with Penny - which threw me off because I have a decent gaydar. 

Simon and Penny come back to the apartment exactly when it’s time for us to Uber to the airport. Simon stuffs two sandwiches in his mouth as we head out. He looks like he’s been crying too, his eyes are all swollen and he’s not talking, keeping his gaze on his feet the entire time. 

I want to know what happened between them - Simon and Baz because I’m nosy. But I’m intelligent enough to know that it’s none of my business and that things will eventually come out in the open for everyone to learn. 

I called my mom on the way to the airport, and she didn’t even sound surprised at my up and leaving the country. She did say that she wasn’t aware that I had a passport (I don’t) but she also told me to make sure that I get international calling and to contact her as soon as I’m able to. I sent an email to my boss on my phone too, telling him that I’ll be overseas for a while. Greg is half pukwudgie (it’s fascinating), but he’s a pretty chill guy, he’ll give me my job back once I return to the States. Whenever that is. 

Penny is using illegal magic to ensure my car remains in Vegas with no issue, and getting me across the world with nothing but the clothes on my back, and it’s all amazing. She’s an incredible witch, that’s a fact. Although the sour mood of our group makes it hard to be excited about what I’ll be learning on the other side of the pond. Simon and Baz are ignoring everyone and pointedly not looking at each other, Penny is fuming, Agatha looks resigned. I’ve got this feeling that this is normal for them, that this is how things usually are in their group after an adventure. 

Still, I can’t help but wonder if Penny’s mom could cure me of my curse. 


	2. Chapter 2

> ** 3 YEARS LATER **

** BAZ **

The truth is that I don’t want to go back home to London. I’ve been abroad, studying overseas for the last few years, after I realized that England is too small a country to stay in if Simon was also going to be there. I went to Spain, Greece, and eventually settled in France. 

Paris is no London, but my French is flawless and the vampire population there isn’t bad. Las Vegas unlocked a lot of questions regarding what I was. Yes, I’m a mage first and foremost. But I’m also a vampire. (And apparently, I’m considered a vegan one at that.)

During my first year abroad, I lived in a tiny studio apartment and played melancholy music on my violin. I smoked too much and went to Uni and studied too hard. Then I met a man, a vampire, named Emmanuel who taught me more than Lamb did. 

It would be a lie to say that I didn’t have a bit of a boyish crush on Emmanuel, the man who dubbed himself my sire. Which, to this day, I can’t help but scoff at. Emmanuel who wept dramatically as he dropped me off at the airport on my last day in France. Honestly, I think it was his cute face that made me tolerate him as much as I did over the last three years. He’s handsome, with dark curls kept short and equally dark round eyes, and he has a single dimple on his left cheek when he smiles. 

“What am I to do without you, Basil?” Emmanuel asked me the night before my leaving. We were in his apartment, I had handed the keys to my own in during that day and was staying with him until morning. “I suppose I could go with you.”

“I suppose you could  _ not _ ,” I rolled my eyes at him. 

I wasn’t surprised when he kissed me, we've done that before. It felt good, with his fingers running through my hair as if they belonged there. We've done quite a few physical activities together over the years. He knows how to touch me, he's been an excellent teacher and a good friend. This time, however, Emmanuel wasn’t surprised when I didn’t exactly kiss back. Instead, he laughed and patted me on the shoulder. 

“It’s too bad that vampires mate for life, yeah?” Emmanuel said to me before bidding me goodnight.

That was something I learned in France. Vampires will fall in love with a person and remain in love with them. To use  _ Twilight  _ terms - vampires imprint. It’s tricky when it’s a vampire and human pairing I suppose. Although I think that most vampires Turn their human lovers before death. Imagine forever mourning your lover for the rest of your eternal life? It’s tragic. 

Luckily  _ I'm  _ not immortal, otherwise, I'd still be four years old. I've got this theory about why myself (and Nicodemus Petty) seem to be the only two vampires in existence to age. I think it has something to do with our magic. 

Years ago, Simon Snow flooded me with magic and it healed my leg and made it so that I don't have to drink as often as I used to. My theory is that the magic in our DNA fights off the vampire infection. It's actually something that I've been doing research on in my spare time. I haven't shared this idea with anyone, but maybe I'll discuss it with Penelope.

Now I’m on an airplane, in first class, heading back home. My education is done, I’ve my degree in finance and I already have a job set up as a financial advisor with a bank one of my great-uncles is on the board of directors of. It’s elitism at its best.

My phone buzzes in my pocket before taking off. I already know that it’s Penny wishing me safe travels. I don’t respond, instead, I turn off my phone. I should be back in London in no time, Fiona offered to pick me up. Bunce did as well, but I’m not ready to see her yet. It’s not that I haven’t seen her over the years, but that was in France, not England.

I’m trying not to allow my dread to swallow me whole. I've got a feeling that I'll be seeing Snow sooner than I am comfortable with. And I’m a weak man, I couldn't stop myself from seeing him if given the opportunity.

I close my eyes as the plane begins to ascend. May as well rest, I’ll be back home in about an hour.

** PENNY **

I graduated from Uni at the top of my class, of course, with a degree in linguistics. Which is incredibly useful with spells. I want to eventually teach at Watford someday, but for now, it’s fun to work for the Coven and deal with curses and dead spots. (The tattoo on Shepard’s body hasn't changed much since we’ve begun the process of attempting to remove it. It’s been fun though, trying to figure out this puzzle.)

Speaking of dead spots, the magic has begun to come back into the ones that were across the UK. It’s fascinating work, and my dad and I have been traveling to Stonehenge where the first dead spot was quite a bit these last few weeks, but within this last visit, the area had magic again! Strong magic too, as if the area were making up for what it had been lacking over the years.

The magic in the dead spots was coming back! A decade or so later in some places. I wonder what this means for Simon, I never really thought that he was born a Normal and suddenly came to magic, that just doesn’t sound quite right. But magicians don't give up their kids. It’s a puzzle that I may never solve, unfortunately. I hate mysteries.

Between trying to figure out Shepard’s curse and trying to figure out how to expedite closing the dead spots, I’ve no time for much else. Honestly, I had thought that I’d be married by now, at twenty-three. To Micah. Instead, I’m traveling the UK frequently, sometimes with my father and his group of scientists, but typically with Shepard (who insists on making friends with all kinds of mythical creatures along the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if he winds up finding the fairies).

It’s exciting and just what I need, I sometimes feel like a real-life Indiana Jones with the hijinks that Shepard and I get into. I’m home at least two weeks out of the month, but Simon’s always working nights so I hardly ever see him except for his days off. 

Now, though, I’m going home because I want to see Basil (and Simon, of course, but that’s a given). I saw him a few times when I was sent to the mainland for various magical artifacts. Shepard and I visited him in France, we enjoyed the cafes and behaved like tourists. Although we did manage to drag Baz on an adventure and fought a Lou Carcolh, which is this giant slug-serpent hybrid that’s native to France - it almost ate us. It was the best time I’ve had abroad, although Baz would beg to differ. 

I also accidentally met Baz’s vampire lover. Although I’m not sure if the word "lover" would be the correct term for Emmanuel. It was obvious that their relationship was intimate, but Baz called him an annoyance - not a boyfriend, Emmanual stated that he was Baz’s sire, which made no sense to me since Emmanuel hadn’t been the vampire to Turn Baz. It was awkward and I had gotten angry on Simon’s behalf. Which was stupid because I know that Simon was the one to end things. And I know it's none of my business, and Baz is allowed to carry on, but I can't help it! They (Simon and Baz) love each other! It's incredibly annoying.

Simon’s gotten better, he’s back in therapy and he’s on antidepressants and he’s turned into a CrossFit freak. He’s no longer on the sofa drinking himself into a stupor. He’s got a trade degree and a job. He’s more at peace with himself. It’s been a wonderful thing to witness, and if I’m honest, I don’t think he could have achieved that with Baz. Not because Baz is bad for him, no, Baz is fantastic for Simon. But Simon needed to grow on his own first, they rushed into a relationship during probably the worst time ever. And mutual trauma doesn't make a relationship last despite the love in it.

Simon hasn’t seen Baz since they broke up, and Baz hasn’t seen Simon. Nor do either ask about the other, but I know for a fact that they’re still friends on Instagram and Snapchat. There have been days where I've caught Simon watching Baz's stories. Even if they don't talk, Baz can see that Simon watches his stuff. 

My mind is everywhere now, it’s the lack of sleep causing things to pile up in my head. I need to take a deep breath and focus on one thing at a time. What I know and what I don’t know. 

_ What I don’t know: _

  * How Simon and Baz are going to react when they’ve realized that I’ve invited both of them to the same dinner. 
  * How to cure Shepard’s damn curse. (He still won’t tell me the demon’s name). 
  * If Simon will get his magic back.

_ What I know: _

  * Baz is coming back home to England and has already bought himself a flat in London. (Because he’s so damn posh, I should know, he gave me his spare key in the case of an emergency). (I’m excited to see him again.)
  * The dead spots are closing. 
  * I think I’m a little in love with Shepard.

The last one kind of took me by surprise over the last few months. I’ve spoken to Agatha about it because that’s apparently what we do now. We talk about boys and random crap that we never would have spoken about as teenagers. She laughed at me about it, although I suppose I deserve that. We talk about a lot of things, like how she’s doing with the newly formed Coven over on the United States west coast. And how things are with their war against the NowNext. She was so reluctant in the beginning to even aid with forming the foundation of an American Coven, but I think she’s doing well. I think she missed magic more than she let on, and she’s been using it more now that she’s away from home than before.

It’s not like I want to be in love with him, Shepard that is. He’s twenty-five and as lanky as the day I met him. He’s a Normal, although he’s quite well educated about magic and magical creatures. He’s cursed. He’s promised his firstborn child to at least three different demons - that’s a problem. I would like to have children someday, and I don’t want to do that with someone who promised his firstborn to someone else! He’s such an idiot. I would say that I don’t know how he’s managed to get himself into these situations, but I do.

We’ve just gotten back to our flat and it’s eerily quiet. I had told Simon that we were coming back today, but I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s still fast asleep. There’s pizza on the stovetop with “WELCOME BACK” written in sharpie on the top of the box lid. 

“I’m gonna shower and probably nap,” Shepard told me while taking his travel bag to his room.

We moved into this flat once our lease was up for our old one a few years ago. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, it costs more but we have three incomes to use for it. Along with Simon’s leprechaun gold that he stashed away in his savings - he was fortunate that gold was worth a lot when he found the bag and that it was easy to turn into currency. He also has the money that The Mage left him, but Simon never touches it - Simon made a huge contribution when we originally put down our deposit. I think he felt the need to make up for nearly a year of being a lump on the sofa.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to check. It’s Baz, he just made it to Fiona’s house but was going to go to his own home soon, after he had lunch with her. I smiled as I replied that I stuffed his freezer with pigs' blood from the butchers. There's a magical butcher not too far from our flat, Shepard found it. It deals cows and pigs blood to creatures. I’m not as squeamish about the thought as I had been when I was younger, I’ve learned a lot while on my travels.

I head to my bedroom and nearly face plant onto my mattress. It smells musty, but it’s soft and comfortable. The dead spots are closing, I should tell Simon that as soon as I see him later, he’d be relieved to hear it. I should tell Baz that, but I don’t want to get his hopes up - not yet. Though I've got a feeling that the Hampshire hole (the largest hole) will be closing soon.

** SIMON **

It’s after four in the morning by the time I leave work, I could have left sooner but I’m aiming for a promotion, so I told the others they could go ahead while I finished up. I’m a bartender at a popular club in the heart of London. The hours are awful and they took a while to adjust to, but I do love it. I don’t have to think too much while working, just mix the drinks, and talk to people. I like it. I’m friendly and cute, I get generous tips and quite a bit of phone numbers. It’s nice to be flirted with and to be seen as attractive. Although I’ve never called any of my customers who gave me their mobile numbers. I haven’t dated anyone in a few years, not since - 

It doesn’t matter. I’ll never have anyone like that again, so why bother? The truth is that I’m still in love, and I get angry with myself about it sometimes. How can I love someone whom I’ve not seen in years? It’s ridiculous, and I tell myself that I only love the idea of him. I don’t know who he is anymore. 

Typically I go to the gym after work, but today I’m just tired. After I had gotten my wings and tail removed, I got into CrossFit, and I mean  _ really  _ into CrossFit. I take fencing classes too. I’ve been trying to do things that I think would make me happy. I’m better than I once was, that’s for sure. 

I’m locking up the employee entrance when the hair on the nape of my neck prickles at the feeling of someone watching me. I'm hoping that I don’t have to fight someone to prevent getting mugged. I mean, not a lot of people bother me, I’m a decent sized man, and ever since I’ve started CrossFit I’ve gotten thicker across my chest and in the arms. My uniform of a fitted black t-shirt and fitted black jeans only enhance that. 

I keep a penknife on me, in case of an emergency. I wish I could summon the Sword of Mages. I wish I had some bloody magic, any magic. I’ve adjusted well to my life as a Normal, but the extra protection would be handy right about now.

When I turn around to face the back alley, no one is there. But it’s dark out, so anyone could be in the shadows.  _ Anything _ .

It happens fast, one moment I’m headed to the main road, and the next I’m being pinned against the brick face of the building. 

“Ah! Bloody fuck!” I yell and try to fight off my assailant. But it’s like hitting cold concrete, and they won’t budge at all. 

“I’ve been smelling you all night,” the man’s voice is unfamiliar. His breath is cold against my throat as he shoves my head to the side to expose my neck. He probably decided to mark me as his prey while in the club.

“Fucking really?” My voice is loud, but it’s a strange hour and there’s no one out on the street. I’m about to get bitten (and possibly drained) by a bloody vampire!

“Like buttery popcorn,” he’s saying, licking a long strip of my skin. Gross. 

I can feel his fangs about to press into me. It makes me want to gag. I know that if he just bites me and takes a little bit that it won’t turn me, but still. I don’t want to get fucking bitten by some random vampire! If I were honest with myself - which is something recent that I’ve been doing - I’ve only ever wanted  _ one  _ vampire to sink his teeth into me. And it sure as fuck isn’t this bloke. 

He’s got one of his large hands pressed against my mouth. I’m still trying to fight him off, but it’s near impossible. 

Suddenly the guy is thrown away from me. 

“ ** Off With Your Head ** !” 

The vampire's head disconnects from his body and he disintegrates into dust. 

I’m scrubbing at my neck as I lean forward with my hand on my knee, trying not to dry heave. 

“Did he bite you?”

I shake my head and gulp for air. Tears are stinging my eyes - which is ridiculous because I’ve been through worse. Still doesn’t stop me from rubbing a shaking palm against them. “Fuck, he wanted to. Said I smelled like buttery popcorn. Like a fucking snack, yeah?”

I could laugh at that. I’m a fucking snack! It makes me a little hysterical.

I’m scared to look up at my savior, but it’s rude to keep staring down at the concrete. 

The lighting in the alleyway is shit, but I can make him out perfectly. He’s wearing expensive-looking trainers (when did that start? I’ve only ever seen him in loafers), tailored jeans, a tight t-shirt, and his hair is up in a bun. He’s doing his best to keep his face passive, but we’ve known each other since we were eleven years old, and even three years apart can’t change the fact that I  _ know  _ him. He’s just as nervous as I am.

I wonder if he could hear how fast my heart is going at the sight of him. Or if he thinks it’s remnants of the assault that I just endured. I haven’t physically seen him since we came back home from our abysmal trip to America, I’ve done my best to avoid him (although I religiously check his social media accounts), and it wasn’t hard since he fled the fucking country. He left before I could properly speak to him again, and I’ve been too much of a coward to call or message him. He’s better off without me.

Baz has gotten better looking. Of course, he has. I can feel my face flush at the sight of him. 

“You were just coincidentally taking a stroll on this side of London at this hour of the night?” I find myself asking him as I stand up straight. I rub at my neck again. 

Baz sneers at me, his teeth on full display. It’s good to see. “Shepard texted me. Said that you were late coming home and asked if I would check on you.”

That shouldn’t be surprising. Shepard is a good roommate, and he’s up at odd hours a lot of the time doing research. Although he should have known better than to contact my ex-boyfriend. I wasn’t even aware that Baz was back in England. 

“Fiona doesn’t live on this side of town,” I say.

Baz arches a brow and looks down his nose at me as if I were an absolute idiot. “No, Fiona doesn’t. You know, most people are appreciative when their lives are saved.”

“When did you get back?” How long has he been in town without my knowing? 

“That’s none of your business,” Baz rolls his eyes at me. It hurts. This entire exchange hurts.

_ I love you.  _ It's in my mouth before I can stop it.  _ I missed you _ . Oh, Simon, you’re such a bloody fool with a weak heart. 

“Thank you, Basilton,” I say to him. I’m not going to argue with him, there’s no point. Plus I’m tired and this interaction has caught me off guard. 

We’re staring at each other. We’ve always done that, stared, been acutely aware of the other person. I suppose he’s just taking me in, just like I did him. I don’t think I’ve changed too much, just got a bit more fit, and I can grow facial hair better although I rarely do. Beards are against my job’s dress code. 

“Right, I should start on my way home,” I say.

“Right,” Baz nods, “would you like a ride home?”

A ride? In a car?  _ With Baz _ ? Baz, who looks incredible and probably smells the same as he always had. Which means his car probably smells like cedar and bergamot too. I couldn’t handle that.

“Ah, no. Thank you. I’ll take the tube.” I gulp and then wet my lips. I move past him and to the pavement. When I turn back to face him, to thank him again, he’s gone.


	3. Chapter 3

** SIMON  **

I'm angrily eating scones despite my low carb diet. It's my day off and I'm holed up in my bedroom, having just come back from fencing class. Baz Pitch recently updated his Instagram with a selfie of him in a posh looking flat with large windows taking up a wall behind him.

That must be where he's living now because that sure as hell isn't Fiona’s place. 

Shepard sent Baz to check on me last night. Probably because 1) Baz lives close to my job. 2) Baz is a mage. 3) Baz is a vampire. All three meant that he could easily find me in case of a goblin attack. (I'm not even sure if they still have that bonety on me.) or in case I was hit by a car, or attacked by a vampire. Still, what if I had decided to go home with a customer this morning? I mean I never have, but I could've! And then Baz would have seen that!

Instead, Baz rescued me. Baz, who is fucking beautiful and whom I'm still pathetically in love with and whom I miss so bad it hurts. He saw me, in my work uniform with my ugly non-slip shoes and my pounding heart. I suppose the alternative was worse. He could have found my bloodless corpse instead, then I never would have gotten the chance to see him again.

I don't know how I could have ever thought that we matched. Baz and me. We don't. Not at all. We're both two broken men with too many shattered pieces to properly fit together.

My self-esteem is something I'm working on in therapy. Even though my medication helps with depression, my self-esteem is painfully low. We, my therapist, and I have speculated that it's due to being in group homes and other places where I just wasn't given the positive attention that I needed. It's not something that I like thinking about, though I do force myself to. I've come a long way and I don't want to fall apart just because I can't de-compartmentalize.

I shove another scone in my mouth. I wish I had butter. Even if it was just a stick of the stuff. I'd be smearing the scones in it. I wish the scones were warmer, they cooled off since I brought them home. Maybe this isn't exactly healthy. Binging and stalking my ex’s social media like an internet troll.

“ ** Some Like It Hot ** ,” I say to the scones while pointing my useless wand at it. I don't know why I keep it. Sometimes I like to play around with it. I'm not sure what my therapist would say about that but I don’t think it matters. I was always shit at magic.

I reach for another scone and then drop it back in the box. 

It was warm.

** PENNY **

I'm pulling my hair into a sloppy top-knot, I'll be heading to the airport soon to pick up Agatha. I tried to look decent for her sake. Comfortable t-shirt, cropped jeans, slide on canvas shoes. I gave up my Mary-Janes when we began to be sent on missions for the Coven. When wearing a skirt was just impractical. Jeans are durable and practical and even come in different colors! My current ones are purple and my oversized shirt is black and slides off of one of my shoulders and is kind of weirdly sagging where I have attempted to French tuck it. 

I don't know how to do anything else with my hair, not really. So I finish tying it up when Simon barges into my room.

“There's this thing called knocking,” I say to him blandly. Last I saw him he had been inhaling carbs as if his life depended on it. Anger radiating from him as he went and watched Basil’s entire Instagram story. Now, however, he looks spooked. “Are you alright?”

I can't help but wonder if this is about Baz. Or about what happened early this morning. Was he alright? We've been through worse, although he's always had a weapon before and this time he had been defenseless. Is he going to tell his therapist about the vampire attack when he Skypes her later?

“Pen,” Simon swallows. He's got a long neck so it's always a spectacle when he does. His Adam's apple bobs up and down slowly. “I, well, I think I just did magic.”

Oh. Oh! Oh, Stevie Nicks!

** AGATHA  **

I’m on summer vacation and I plan on spending it back home before I start my veterinary program in California. It’s nice to be home, I haven’t been back to England since I came and got my wand nearly three years ago. Which I almost regret, if not for the fact that I hadn’t realized how much I missed doing magic. Even my watered-down magic, it felt good to be able to use. And I use it mostly to calm the animals down at the shelter that I work in, and also to kill vampires. 

I can’t say how I got the reputation of being a fucking vampire slayer, or even as one of the founders of the American Coven. Honestly, this isn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to pull a Lucy Salisbury and fuck off into the world of Normal’s, but the older I become the more I realize how difficult that truly is. I hadn’t realized how much I honestly loved magic until I went a year without it. I’m not as obsessed as Penelope is, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate it. The NowNext threat has dwindled quite a bit, but that doesn’t mean that they’re still not a major threat in the United States. It’s not as bad as it was, at least. 

I’m stepping out of the airport, watching for Penny’s beat-up car. She drives a silver 1994 two-door VW Golf. She was so proud of herself when she first bought it, but it’s old and needs work that Penny isn’t quite willing to put into it. I’m fairly certain that she uses magic to keep it up and running. 

London has a dreary overcast, and the scent of cigarette smoke hits me as soon as I go outside. Right, that’s culture shock set in, I had forgotten how nearly everyone smokes here. 

“Agatha!” Penny’s voice screeches from the line of cars picking up other passengers. 

She’s waving out of her window at me from a little further down. I picked up my bag and sprint over to her, throwing my suitcase into the back seat and hopping into the passengers' side. 

“How was your flight?” She asks as she easily zips through traffic before I’ve even gotten the chance to buckle up. 

She drives like a woman possessed and it’s just a little scary, and then I realize that she probably learned to drive this way out of necessity. Penny still goes on crazy adventures across Europe. She calls herself a magical explorer, which makes me roll my eyes, but at least she’s keeping busy. And she likes what she does, which is a little confusing to me. She works for the Coven, as a curse breaker and dead spot specialist. Or something like that. She gets to travel quite a bit and risk her life, which is right up Penny’s alley. 

“Long,” I answer her easily. I watch the scenery go by, I had almost forgotten how close everything was together, the row houses nearly stacked on top of one another. “I saw Baz was back.”

“Instagram?”

“Snapchat.”

“Yeah, and Simon already had a run-in with him,” Penny says. 

Is it strange that this is what I live for? The gossip of our friends? It’s so  _ normal _ . It’s something that Penny and I would have never even bothered to discuss with one another as children, or as teenagers. It’s amazing what time does for people - and persistence. Penny insisted on staying friends with me, and then I was practically forced into the American Coven, and things just kind of fell into place. 

“That must’ve been awkward,” I say. It must have been, I can’t imagine how that reunion was. The last time I saw them together was on the plane ride back to England three years ago, after their horrible road trip. Baz sat on one end of our row and Simon sat on the other. Simon cried on and off the entire flight and Baz pretended to be asleep. It was incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Considering Baz saved Simon’s life, I imagine it was,” Penny says as she makes a turn at a roundabout. “Simon was coming off of work and was attacked by a vampire.”

“Of course he was.” I sigh. This is not surprising in the least. “I’m shocked it wasn’t a goblin, are they still saying that whoever kills him is their king?”

“I’ve no idea,” Penny shrugs while turning again. 

The inside of her car is surprisingly clean, but she tells me that she and Shepard travel often together, so it must be his doing. 

“Anything else new and exciting?” I ask her as she parks in front of her building. No doubt in the magical parking space she made for herself. 

“The dead spots are closing,” Penny tells me, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“That’s great!” I chirp. Because it is, especially for the Grimm’s who had lost their house because of this. The entire Pitch estate drained in the blink of an eye.

Penny shrugs, “here’s the thing that’s weird though, and I’m not sure how to go about it. The holes are closing up, and Simon is getting magic back.”

I furrow my brows, “what? How?” 

Honestly, nothing shocks me anymore. Nothing. Simon not being a Normal and being a mage all along? Yeah, I can see that. Him getting his magic back once the magical atmosphere heals itself? Yeah, it makes sense. But will he be the same powerhouse that he had been before everything fell apart? And what would this do for him? I thought he was in therapy, adjusting to life as a Normal, how would this fuck him up?

I follow Penny out of the car and into the building. It’s nicer than her last flat was. She lives on the third floor, and there's no elevator (“it’s a lift Agatha, Crowley! Stop talking so American.”) It’s a big space, with a decent-sized living room. I’ll be staying here for the next week, avoiding my parents. It’s not that I don’t love them, it’s that they can be overbearing sometimes and I’ve enjoyed my space away. It’s not like they haven’t visited me in California, but I’ve decided to try to split my time between both friends and family evenly. 

Simon’s lying on the sofa, glaring at his phone. He sits up once he spots me, and then springs to his feet. “Aggie!”

Simon...looks amazing. He’s been working out and it shows. His t-shirt is tight across his chest, his shoulders were even broader, and his biceps filled out his shirt’s sleeves. Crowley. I can only imagine what Baz thought when he saw Simon the other night.

“Hey Simon,” I find myself smiling as he embraces me. He’s warm and solid and smells faintly of baked goods and apples. I’ve missed him. 

He’s smiling brightly as he pulls away, “it’s good to see you. I like your hair.”

My hair had been cut to my shoulder. Penny hadn’t noticed, I didn’t expect her to. But Simon - who was always oblivious - did and it pleases me more than I thought it would have. “Thank you!”

“We’re going out to dinner tonight,” Penny tells me as she brews a pot of tea. She could use magic for it, but I suppose living with two Normals rubbed off on her a little. 

“To that fancy place, right?” Simon frowns at her before giving me a conspirative smile. “Pen’s forced me to buy a proper suit and a button-up for this place. Luckily it’s not so strict, I won’t need a tie, but it still sounds swotty.”

“I can hear you!” Penny says from the kitchen. 

“I meant you to!” Simon responds flippantly. 

“Where’s Shepard?” I ask, “he’ll be coming too, I assume?”

“He’s at my parents' house,” Penny says as she comes out of the kitchen with a tray. There are some biscuits on it and scones. “He’ll be back later.”

I watch as Simon drinks his tea unsweetened and with no cream. He doesn’t even grab a biscuit. It’s so unusual. 

“I’m on a strict diet,” Simon shrugs. “And I plan on breaking it tonight, don’t give me that face.”

“Penny was right,” I can’t help but smile, “you really are a CrossFit freak.”

Simon shrugs again. 

** SHEPARD **

I’m wearing a purple button-up and a silver bow-tie with black slacks and jacket and black dress shoes that have been polished to the point where they nearly sparkle. They don’t want me looking like an American hipster. Whatever that means. English people are funny. 

Agatha is beautiful in a tea-length pink dress with a plunging neckline. She’s waif-like so it works for her. She’s got on pearls and heels the same color. Her makeup is perfect and not a hair of her’s is out of place. 

It was my idea to go to this restaurant. Penny said that us all meeting up for curry would have been fine, but my idea is that the nicer the place, the less likely there would be a scene. Plus Baz loves dressing up. The restaurant earned a Michelin star and it had a waitlist nearly a year long. The good thing about being nearly best friends with a witch was that Penny has no remorse overusing her magic for illegal activities. Although I’m not sure if skipping a waitlist is illegal. I don’t think Penny told Simon that Baz is going to be there, but I’m pretty sure that Baz knows that Simon is probably going to be tagging along. He’s practically a genius, and he knows it. It’d be annoying if it weren’t for the fact that Baz is a great person.

Penelope comes out in a form-fitting black dress that leaves my mouth dry. I swallow uselessly at the sight of her. I know Agatha did her hair and makeup, and it enhances all of Penny’s best features. I think she’s pretty either way, but the term ‘drop dead gorgeous’ was created for moments like this. 

“Where’s Simon?” Penny asks me. Her lips are bright red and distracting. 

“Here!” Simon nearly topples out of his bedroom. He looks fantastic, and I’m comfortable enough with my masculinity to say that Simon Snow is hot. Dark navy blue slacks, brown shoes, white button-up with the top two buttons undone. He’s even wearing a dark navy blue jacket over it, with a light blue silk scarf in the front breast pocket. It makes his eye color pop. 

“Your hair is atrocious.” Agatha sighed heavily before taking her wand out of her tiny clutch purse and muttering some sort of spell that seems to straighten his hair and gel it back artfully. 

He grins at her. “Better?”

I glance down at my watch, it’s the same silver as my tie. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand, folks. We’re going to be late.”

They - Simon and Penny - still look at me strangely whenever I use American idioms. So I keep using them and enjoying myself at their benefit. Agatha just snorts.

Penny magics her car to look nicer than what it truly is, which is hilarious. It feels like a costume party or prom. The restaurant has valet parking and I try to make out Baz’s jaguar in the lot. It's a black 2010 Jaguar XJ, usually, it's pretty distinct, but it’s dark out now and all the expensive cars look the same.

** SIMON **

This place makes me nervous. As if I’m going to fuck everything up while ordering. Or that I’ll use the wrong cutlery. I mean, I have table manners, the Wellbelove's taught me a lot during my winters in their home. But still. We’re seated at a large round table in the back corner. Everyone looks so posh and snobby, I can’t even bother acting as if I’ll fit in. 

“He’s not here yet,” Penny sighs before thanking Shepard for pulling her chair out for her. I quickly copy and do the same for Agatha, who gives me a look. I think she realizes that I wasn’t paying attention. 

“Oh!” Agatha sits up straight and fluffs her hair a little. “There he is.”

I turn towards the entrance and freeze. This shouldn’t be a surprise, this should be expected of Penny. She’s sneaky like that. 

Baz is wearing a deep green suit that almost looks black if not for the way the light hits it. His black hair has a product in it and it’s pushed away from his face. My heart feels as if it’s going to burst out of my chest. 

He seems to glide across the room and everyone’s attention is on him. I can see how people turn their heads to watch him gracefully walk by. I gulp what little saliva that I had in my mouth.

Everyone else at my table is seated, and I’m like a fucking numpty for being the only one standing, but it’s too late to sit down. Baz’s eyes are narrowed in on me and I can feel my face flush. Fuck. ** **

** BAZ **

I’m going to murder Penelope Bunce. 

Simon is standing there staring at me, looking like a lost sheep. His trousers cling to his thighs enticingly and his jacket hugs his shoulders and back. If I thought he looked delectable in his work uniform, I was not prepared for this.

** PENNY **

Basil is probably considering murdering me. He’s so dramatic. 

** SIMON **

“Sit down, Snow. I’m not the Queen.” Baz says to me as he goes around the table to exchange soft cheek kisses with Agatha and Penny, and shaking Shepard’s hand before going to the only seat available. Next to me. 

I’m going to kill Penny.

** BAZ **

I order a bottle of wine for the table, wondering how Bunce was going to pay for everyone. And then I decide that I don’t care, I don’t, let her break the laws some more. I already know that she has no remorse overusing her magic however she sees fit. 

If I can ignore Snow then it’s a pleasurable night. We’ve exchanged exactly zero words since we’ve been seated. He’s a fidgeting mess beside me, smelling of apples and popcorn. He looks good in his blue suit, better than he had in the gray one I had lent him eons ago. My gaze is purposely fixed anywhere else other than him. This is painful. 

Simon’s heart rate is racing, and I try to ignore it as I cut up my nearly raw steak. It’s so rare that it’s still bleeding. I keep my face passive as I take a delicate bite. I can eat in front of people now, it’s still an adjustment to me after so many years. Lamb had taught me the basic skills on how to keep my fangs at bay, but Emmanuel was the one who helped me. I will forever be in his debt. 

Agatha is talking about her American Coven dynamics - which is fascinating. I should be paying more attention to it, but I can only focus on Simon. His body heat, his heartbeat, his scent. Three years apart has done nothing for my longing. I suppose I should be able to be amicable toward him, we share the same friends after all. Us being forced into a social event together was inevitable.

Still, sitting beside him makes me want to set myself on fire just to escape the pain. I wonder if he’ll notice if I were to do that while sitting here. From my peripheral, I can see how he’s studiously staring down at his silverware. 

“How’s Emmanuel, Baz?” Shepard asks me. 

That caught Simon’s attention. 

“He’s well, last I checked. Wanted to come with me.” I answer. 

“Who’s Eman-” Simon’s question is cut off by a woman screaming from the center of the dining room. Her dinner date burst into flames.


	4. Chapter 4

** SIMON **

The fire is catching, the woman is on fire now, the flames are licking their way across the entire dining room. People are screaming as they run for the exits.

“** Make A Wish **!” Agatha practically screams.

“** Make A Wish **!” I hear Baz casting beside me. Their spells do nothing.

“This is magic!” Penny cries out. But that makes no sense, the only spell I’m aware of that can’t be put out with magic is ** Candle In The Wind **. Whatever this was sure as Hell wasn’t that.

“We have to go!” I grab Baz by his elbow. We’re all standing, running with the rest of the crowd toward the emergency exits. My concern is Baz, who will catch as easily as flash paper if fire lands on him. He’s solid under my grip, and I can’t help but squeeze.

We’re outside and in the carpark when we see it. The fire that engulfed the entire building looks like a hare, it moves its flame head toward our group, black hollow eyes staring right at us, and then it goes out.

** AGATHA **

“I am not spending my holiday going on a bloody adventure!” I say it firmly from the backseat of Penny’s car. We’re on the way back to the flat, Baz in his car behind us. I wish I could have driven with Baz, his car is probably more spacious than this one.

“No one says that you have to,” Simon has tugged his neat hair into a mess of curls. He’s worrying his lower lip so hard between his teeth that I’m slightly worried that he’ll break the skin. (I’m sitting behind Penny, so I have a perfect view of him.) He’s thinking about the creature that we all saw in the fire. This would have been a classic Simon Snow mission back when we were at Watford.

The rest of the drive is spent in tense silence, even Shepard is quiet.

I keep my gaze on London nightlife and wonder if it matters whether I came home or not. Trouble seems to follow me regardless, back in the States it’s in the form of unwelcomed vampires, and here it’s in the form of fire monsters.

** BAZ **

I magically make myself a parking space behind Bunce’s in front of their flat’s building. It’s different from the last one they lived in, nicer. It’s in a nicer area too, with coffee shops and independent bookstores. There’s a bakery across the way and a Chinese restaurant on the corner. This part of the city is different from where I live. I’m in an upscale high rise with a garden and pool on the roof.

We walk up three flights in silence. It feels like a bloody funeral procession. Penelope opens the door and walks in first, followed by Agatha and Shepard.

“You can come in, Baz,” Simon whispers so that my ears are the only ones to hear the permission he’s granted me.

Agatha and Penny have both thrown their shoes off. Penny has her ring out and is forming two familiar columns against the living rooms wall - _ What We Know _ , _ What We Don’t Know _. Shepard throws his suit’s jacket onto the back of an armchair and is undoing his bowtie as he sits down.

“Anyone want tea?” Simon asks as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Something harder than tea,” Agatha says from where she’s curled up on the sofa. She looks fed up already. I’m momentarily taken back to another time, where she wanted nothing to do with our self-appointed mission to avenge my mother ‘_ I’m not even here! _’ she had been in such a strop about it. Rumor has it she’s a proper vampire slayer now. It’s funny how time changes things.

I come into the kitchen to help Snow with the glasses. He’s still in his dark navy blue suit and I take a peek at his ass as he bends to grab something from a lower kitchen cabinet. Damn.

“Where are your glasses?” I ask him.

He stands with what appears to be a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. “Far left.”

I grab five tumblers and open his freezer for ice. There’s a small container of blood in the very back of the freezer that makes me frown. Why on Earth would they have that in their flat? I figure it’s none of my business as I put ice in each cup.

I turn and almost bump into Simon. We’re chest to chest and he stares up at me with wide blue eyes before taking a step back. I frown at him and then snatch his kerchief from his breast pocket, the shade of blue, and the material was too familiar for me not to.

It unfolds smoothly. The silk is cool between my fingers, and suddenly I forget about the drinks and the fact that we gathered unanimously to solve this strange creature puzzle together.

“This is my mother’s scarf,” I say. I had thought that it had been lost to me in America. My other clothes had eventually found me over the years, but never the scarf. I had felt so guilty over losing it, but it was never lost, was it? He had it the entire time.

Simon swallows. “I meant to give it to you.”

“I can see that,” I sneer at him. White-hot anger burns brightly inside of me. Why was I even here? I had work in the morning, I had a life that didn’t revolve around stupid men with blue eyes and moles and strange magical creatures trying to kill us for some unknown reason. I leave the flat abruptly, uncaring if I come across as rude. The others would forgive me for my lapse in manners. I needed to get out and away.

** PENNY **

“Did Baz just leave?” I can’t help but ask dumbly. Of course, he just left, I just saw him leave! “Simon, what did you do?”

Basil would have been a big help in this. He can still help later when I bring him up to speed. If he wants to. Why wouldn't he though?

Agatha gets up and grabs the tumblers full of ice, bringing them into the living room and setting them on the table. “Maybe they had a row.”

“Already?” I ask.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to be there?” Simon demanded, anger in every line of his body. “You always do this, Penny!”

“What? Me?” I stand up straight, my shoulders set and my feet apart. “Don’t blame me because you can’t talk to your ex-boyfriend- whom you’re still in love with. It’s not my fault that you can’t pretend to be amicable! Baz is one of my best friends, why wouldn’t I invite him?”

We don’t argue often. Or at all. Typically Simon does what I say or I just drop the topic before we get the chance to blow up at one another. We mesh well together. It’s how we’ve been able to be so close over twelve years.

“Can we fight later?” Agatha asks as she takes a sip of her whiskey. “Honestly, let’s talk about the fact that we could have been burned alive.”

I immediately feel guilty, because I can’t help but imagine how much worse that must have been for Baz. I’ll have to check on him later, ask if he’s okay.

Simon’s shoulders have slumped and he’s sitting on the other side of the sofa, across from Agatha, still fully dressed in his suit. “Yeah, why the fuck was there a huge ass hare made out of the fire?”

I perk up. “You’re right! What if it’s the sixth hare!”

“The sixth hare? Oh Crowley, no, please don’t tell me that,” Simon groaned.

“It would make sense! We never technically found it.” I point out.

“Weren’t the hares white?” Agatha asks. “The six white hares?”

“No,” Simon says, “I mean yes, but also no. The murals where we found of them were of white hares, but the hares themselves were all made out of different stuff. Baz and I fought a water demon hare during the winter holiday, in the moat. The one in the nursery had been created out of clay, so this one being made of fire isn’t so shocking.”

Shepard’s voice breaks in almost timidly. He’s never been one to be shy and it has me on edge. “Actually...I know what and who that was.”

** SHEPARD **

There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to face the curse he was given. My time is now, which kind of sucks. I mean, I knew my time was limited, but still.

Everyone’s eyes are on me, and I can’t help the heavy sigh that escapes me.

“That was the demon who cursed me,” I tell them helplessly. “I can’t exactly tell you why it decided to light up a random restaurant. Or why it set people on fire, she never came across as that malicious before.”

That does sound kind of crazy. To tell them that a demon wasn’t malicious. I mean, she did curse me after all. But the only reason I can think of her killing those two people was that their times were up.

“You've gotten yourself cursed by a fire demon?” Agatha asks.

I shrug and run at the bridge of my nose. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Interesting,” Penny says while looking at her lists.

_ What We Know: _

  * Fire demon who cursed Shepard
  * Looks like a hare
  * Baz is flammable

The last one makes me smile sadly. “Yeah, we can't get this thing away from us if we have a vampire in the field with us. He'll die.”

“He could've died today,” Simon frowns. His gaze is down in his tumbler. “He'd go up in flames and turn to dust.”

“Merlin,” Agatha muttered before reaching over and taking Simon's glass. “No more for you.” She then chugged it down.

“So we know who and what it is,” Penny is gazing back at her list. “That's a lead. Do we get to know its name?”

“Uh, can I use your ring to spell it?” I ask her. I don't like saying her name aloud. I don't like putting her name on paper. But this isn't paper, it's magic.

“Come here,” Penny gestures to her hand.

I stand up and take her wrist, writing the demon's name out to the best of my ability. I've never had to write with someone else's hand before. Penny smells like jasmine, sweat, and smoke. I kind of like it.

_ Abbadon _.

** PENNY **

Abbadon? _ The _ Abbadon?

“How the fuck did you meet them?” Agatha’s voice is high and strangled. “Merlin and Morgana. You're fucked.”

“Who knew they were a hare?” Simon says. “Pretty sure that it's the sixth hare still. It was supposed to be one made of flames.”

“So is it our fault?” Agatha is on her feet, pacing the area next to the coffee table. “We couldn't finish that mission and now Shepard is cursed?”

“And she said I had enough to drink.” Simon sighs and tugs on his curls. “I could probably use the Sword of Mages.” He then sits up straight. “Wait. Can I do that?”

Crowley, he might, he's getting his magic back. The Mage had told us that was the only way to defeat the sixth hare. But if that isn't, then we still need to find an alternative option.

“My head is bloody spinning,” Agatha has a palm on her forehead. “I wish Baz were here. He and Penny would have this solved in under an hour.”

“Sorry!” Simon snapped at her, his chin jutted forward.

“We'll probably have to go back to Watford,” I say.

“Oh yes, that's exactly where we all want to go.” Agatha snips.

She almost died there. We found Ebb’s dead body. We killed The Mage. I worry my thumb in my mouth. I don't even know how Baz had the stomach to finish off eighth year, Agatha fucked right off and Simon and I didn't go back. Well, Simon went back for Baz’s Leavers Ball, but that wasn't the same.

“We may not have any other choice,” I say around my thumbnail.

“Wait,” Shepard is still standing next to me, “Watford? Like real-life Hogwarts?” And this idiot, even though it's his soul on the line, he looks excited.

“It'll have to wait until my next day off.” Simon says, “we can follow the clues to the other hares. In the meantime maybe we should contact Lucinda, or Martin, or Elspeth? They may remember more about it than us. I mean, we were only sixteen.”

“I have them on social media,” Agatha yawns.

“I'm surprised you're even helping us,” I say to her. Because it's true.

She rolls her eyes at me. “May as well.”

_ What We Don't Know: _

  * How to kill Abbadon
  * Is it the sixth hare?

“We should call it a night for now,” Shepard suggests. “It's too bad Baz left so early. I wanted to ask him more about Emmanuel.”

“Who's Emmanuel?” Simon asks. He's standing up from the couch and collecting the glasses. Downing my untouched tumbler full of alcohol in one gulp.

I give Shepard _ A Look _. He shrugs helplessly.

“I'm curious too,” Agatha says.

“He's Baz's... friend?” Shepard tilts his head in thought. “I don't think Baz likes him much though.” That was a lie, we had stumbled across the two of them having an erotic grope-fest.

“He calls himself Baz's sire. He's a vampire,” I state. “He and Baz were close in France. It's a fascinating topic because it's the first time we've got to see vampires living in groups.”

“He lived with a vampire?” Simon yelps.

“He _ is _ a vampire,” Agatha says. “Honestly, Simon. Sounds like this Emmanuel was Baz's boyfriend.”

“What?” Simon asks, his eyes wide. “Is that true?”

“No,” I lie easily. “It wasn't like that.”

It annoys me that Simon is getting jealous over someone he's never met. What right does he have? He lost that when he broke up with Baz - who admittedly has only gotten better looking the older he's gotten. Which is mildly unfair.

“I think I'm going to shower and get ready for bed,” Agatha says. “Maybe not sleep, but would you mind if I watched some telly, and do you guys have wine?”

** SIMON **

Agatha and Penny are in the living room talking about...honestly I'm not sure. I stopped paying them any mind a while ago and after I bathed I went into my room to watch Dr. Who reruns and try not to think about Baz. But trying not to think about him is like trying to ignore an elephant that's stepping on my chest. It's pointless.

He looks good. So good. He _ is _ good. We bumped into each other in the kitchen and I got a right whiff of his cologne and almost melted. Him being anywhere near me is enough to set me on edge. He makes me nervous, which is stupid. How can the man who I once saw get sick by overeating too many Mint Aero bars and vomit all over his shoes - make me nervous? Granted, we were eleven then and I had found it hilarious at the time.

Baz likes to pretend that he's always been this cool. But when you live your entire adolescence with someone, you see how they can be.

Still, he looked so good.

I miss him. I'm stupid, but I do. Merlin, I wish I could reach out and tell him this. But I don't want to come across as a fuckboy. I don't want him to think I'm only saying this because of how handsome he is.

Keeping his mother's scarf from him was wrong. But I had forgotten to give it to him and then I broke up with him and then he left England. I could have had Penny take it to him all the times she went to France to visit him, but I couldn't. It was the only thing I had left of his.

It was my fault things went to shit. It's always my fault with him.

I sigh and take my phone off of its charger. I wonder if he's changed his phone number. Probably not. I mean, I haven't.

He's still in my favorites. I should apologize, I wonder if he's still angry. Or maybe he was more hurt. He's a soft man, softer than a person would think he was. It's late but not too late, he may be awake.

_Simon_ [22:54]: I'm sorry.

There, the message was sent. It doesn't ease the pressure in me. If Baz were to tell me to fuck off right now, I'd do it. I wouldn't blame him for it, I'd deserve it.

I put my phone back to charge and go back to watching the TV show. I'm pretty sure Dr. Who is like a security blanket for me.

I'm nearly asleep when my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

_Baz_ [23:26]: Me too.

I frown at that. Is he sorry for storming out? He had every right. My phone buzzes again in my hand.

_Baz_ [23:27]: Goodnight.

_Simon_ [23:27]: Sleep well, Baz.

Instead of putting my phone down, I go on social media and look to see if he's updated anything. He hasn't. I then open my pictures app and look at the old photos of him.

I'm so pathetic.

** BAZ **

He's the one who ended things with me. It's something that I have to remind myself of. Despite this, I want to send another text to Simon. I want to tell him to have sweet dreams. Instead, I finish my carton of cow blood and clean up my kitchen. My charger is on the bar and I plug my phone in.

A few years apart and another person's perspective makes me realize that Simon did the right thing by ending things. Our relationship wasn't the best in the end. Simon had a lot to work out and so did I. We had to grow as individuals and to do that we had to be apart.

That didn't mean that I hadn't wanted to rip my heart out of my chest. I wanted to beg for him to take me back, I would've done so on my knees. When it comes to Simon I have very little self-respect. I love him more than I care about myself.

I've learned how to live without him. I mourn him every day, but I stay away. Anything to ensure his happiness.

I shake myself out of thought and rub my eyes. I have work in the morning, and no time to worry about Simon Snow. (That doesn't mean that my dreams aren't filled with him anyway.)


	5. Chapter 5

**BAZ**

I wake up aching. My dreams had been filled with the scent of apples and buttery popcorn and Simon Snow’s ridiculously long neck bared for me. His Adam’s apple bobbing slowly as he swallowed under my teeth. My tongue dragging on his skin, connecting mole to mole. The idea causes me to shudder. 

These are disturbing thoughts, but I’ve come to terms with them a while ago. I stretch languidly in bed, my sheets pooling around my waist. I pop my spine and groan happily at the relief of it, it doesn’t distract from the fact that my body is still hyper-aware of everything. The feel of my smooth sheets against me, my legs entangled in them, my mattress against my back.

I wish I could be annoyed with my body’s reaction to that dream. Instead, I’m just thirsty, for physical release and blood. I’m sitting up when I notice the sound of someone in my kitchen. I can smell the familiar scent of clove cigarettes and black tea. Any arousal that had been thrumming under my skin immediately disappears. 

Why is Fiona in my kitchen at nearly seven in the morning? I drag myself out of bed, neatly fold the corners, I’m careful to fold my mother’s scarf and place it under my pillow. I slept with it. It smells divine. I’m disturbed. Afterward, I meander my way into the main parts of my flat. Sure enough, my aunt is sitting at my kitchen table, a cup of tea and a piece of toast before her. 

“What do you want?” I ask her as I go to my espresso maker to make myself a coffee. It’s a habit that I’ve acquired in France. “I thought you were going back to America, dealing with the NowNext nonsense.”

“I will, I’m just here to have breakfast with my favorite nephew before I catch my plane.” She tells me, languidly drinking her tea and watching me from over the rim of her cup. “You look a bit peaky, Basilton.”

“Just hungry,” I tell her. I reach into my refrigerator for blood. 

“Must you do that in front of me?” I can hear Fiona wrinkling her nose at me. 

“Yes,” I say. Fuck my aunt if she thinks I should feel ashamed over the fact that I need blood to survive. The last three years have been therapeutic for me, and yes I know I need to be careful around certain mages, but it’s my home and she knows what I am.

“There’s talk about a big player of the NowNext coming into the UK sometime over the summer. I’m going to do some recon, but it sounds like they’re trying to recruit new members to their cult.” Fiona tells me through a mouth full of toast. 

“I’ll keep an ear out,” I say to her, still not bothering to look up from my task at hand. Blood, breakfast, coffee. Shower, shave, work. Do not think about the ex-boyfriend who starred in my very provocative dreams last night.

Simon and I had sex once when we were together. After that, whenever we had been on the precipice of sex, Simon would pull away. I couldn’t ever understand why, I could tell that he wanted to cross that threshold with me again, but I never pushed him for more than he was willing. Especially not when he began to snap at me, and then everything just stopped.

“Well, I’m off,” Fiona says, leaving her mess for me to clean up. Of course. “I’ll call you when I land, Basil. Take care of yourself, yeah? Don’t get kidnapped by numpties.”

I flip her the V as she cackles at her joke, the same one she’s been making since I was eighteen. 

My phone is buzzing from its charger on the kitchen counter. I take a leisurely sip of my espresso as I check my incoming text. 

Penny [07:34]: ABBADON! 

Penny [07:35]: Basilton! The fire hare that we saw last night was the fucking demon Abbadon! The one who's cursed Shepard. 

Penny [07:36]: And we think it may be related to the six white hares. And even the third gate!

Penny [07:37]: Are you going to help us?

Baz [07:37]: You're going to Watford? When?

Penny [07:38]: Of course! This weekend! We want to leave on Friday evening.

Baz [07:38]: I can't just up and leave, Bunce. I just started my new job on Monday. How long do you suppose you're going to be gone?

Penny [07:39]: Come on, Baz!

Baz [07:40]: I have responsibilities.

Penny [07:40]: You know you want to.

Baz [07:40]: Just because you run around the globe like a wannabe Indiana Jones doesn't mean that I can as well.

Penny [07:41]: Stop being jealous.

Baz [07:42]: You can't expect me to drop everything. The Scooby Gang disbanded years ago.

Penny [07:43]: Are you going to help, or not?

Baz [07:44]: Of course I will.

Not for the first time, I can’t help but wonder why I ever left France. 

  
  


**SIMON**

Abbadon. It’s my first thought when I wake up that afternoon. Abbadon. I can’t remember much about the hares, only that they were to open a door to somewhere. I was sixteen and it was a bad year. Most of my time at Watford was bad, actually, thanks to the Humdrum, and Baz, and The Mage. 

I roll out of bed and do my stretches. I have to be at work by seven-thirty. Seven-thirty to four. Those are my hours. The flat is quiet, which means that everyone went out, which is good for me. I enjoy the solitude. It’s strange, yes I have roommates, Penny and Shepard. But they’re only here part-time. At first, I was lonely, but I’ve come to relish the silent moments alone. It’s peaceful, and for some reason, it always reminds me of Baz. 

He’s usually the first thing I think of when I wake up. Abbadon took his place today because I tried to remember what The Mage had said about it before I fell asleep. 

I eat breakfast and get dressed in my standard uniform of all black and make sure that my hair is neat. The curls have to look stylized. Honestly it’s a little nauseating that I have to look good for my job, otherwise, I won’t make nearly as many tips a night as I do. On a whim I take my wand and shove it into the inner band of my jeans, there’s a piece of material there that’s frayed and the wand holds secure. 

The train ride is spent with my earbuds firmly in and idly staring at Baz Pitch’s face on my phone. He just posted a short video tour of his new place. It’s massive. All dark wood floors and white walls, elegant like him. There’s a wall that’s just windows, which I find amusing since he’s a vampire and too much sun burns him. It looks like an airy place, which isn’t what I would have imagined for Baz. His family home is overly stuffy and Gothic (he’d say Victorian but I fucking know better). His new flat is modern and open concept. 

I get to work and begin to set things up, do inventory and whatnot. Technically the club opens at nine, but no one shows up that early. Things don’t get in full swing until after eleven, it doesn’t matter that it’s a weekday. My next day off is in two days so I’m looking forward to and dreading Watford, can I even get through the gates on my own? Probably not. I can’t do much magic, just small things. Warming a cup of tea, taking the wrinkles out of a shirt, nothing strenuous. My therapist suggests not relying on it too much since it may just go away again, she didn’t exactly say it like that but I know that’s what she meant. I have to agree with her. Plus I’ve gone years with magic I had no control over and then no magic at all, to have some, even a little, is terrifying. 

“Alright, Simon?” One of my coworkers ask me, and I just smile her off. We open the doors at nine, and I should be focusing on that. 

Sometimes I hate being a bartender, it’s the endless flirting that gets to me. Usually, I just try to be friendly, which I’m good at. I’m good at working with my hands and mixing drinks and dealing with drunks. We have a few bouncers, but sometimes they don’t get to the customers in time and it’s typically left up to me. I’m not a small man in the slightest and I grew up fighting, so it’s not a big deal. 

Tonight is a perfect example of that. I’m calling for last rounds when a man comes up to the counter - frantic. There was a man in the men's room causing problems. 

I look over to the other bartender who is working the shift with me and told her to radio our security before going into the water closet myself. It’s empty save for a single man. He’s not a bad looking man, he’s tall, wiry, dark skin and dreads up in a ponytail. He looks like a typical young person who goes out to clubs on a Thursday night. He’s got his hands on the sink, leaning forward a bit and breathing a little violently. 

“Alright, mate?” I ask him curiously. From here the music is just a faraway vibration. Ensuring that no one can hear what’s happening inside the restrooms. 

“Yeah,” he tells me while flashing me a brief smile. “Just under the weather.”

I frown. That doesn’t add up to the man who ran up to me looking afraid for his life. I nod and start to walk out because this is the bouncers' job and I feel guilty for leaving the bar understaffed. 

“It’s the last call,” I say to him over my shoulder, “maybe you should get yourself a ride home.” I look over at him this time and freeze.

His reflection shows green skin and high cheekbones, a full red mouth. He looks like a movie star. Or a pop icon. Goblin.

“It's been a while since anyone's seen you, Simon Snow.” The goblin grins at me in the mirror. “Rumors went around about your death.”

“That's why the bonety hunters stopped?” I ask. It's not like I can kill the goblin here, at my bloody job! I can't summon the Sword of Mages anyway (I've tried. Penny says it's probably because I don't have enough magic). 

My wand is in the band of my trousers. I'm suddenly acutely aware of it. But spells? What spells can I use?

“Heard you've no power left in you,” the goblin is facing me now. His human facade is attractive too. That's probably how he got the other man into the loo with him, lure his victim with the promise of sex and then eat him. “I wouldn't mind being king.”

I'm almost to the door when the goblin lunges at me. He's strong and fast. Faster than a human. I suppose it makes sense, for the magical creatures who hunt humans be faster than them.

“Fuck!” I dodge his punch and try to protect my face from his hands.

He bares his teeth at me. A mouth full of fucking razors. He's probably planning to eat me.

He swipes for me again. Claws ripping my shirt and grazing my skin. I can feel the heated trickle of blood down my side. 

I kick him in the knee but he doesn't go down. It's been years since I've had to fight for my life, and even though I work out, I've gone soft.

We exchange punches, and he gets a good hit onto my left ear. My world tilts and darkens for a moment and my ear is on fire and I immediately feel nauseous.

He's trying to corner me against a wall. I shove him away from me, grab my wand, and rip it out of my waistband.

“ **Go The Fuck To Sleep!** ”

He drops to the floor and I lean heavily against a stall before the urge to vomit becomes too strong. I'm throwing up when the bouncer comes in.

He drags the goblin out and gets our boss. The music has turned off. Guess the club is closing for the night. I vomit again. I haven't felt this bad in years, I still thought I was young but I guess things go downhill at twenty-three.

My boss gives me ice for my head but it's been determined that someone should take me to the A&E for a possible concussion. And for the gash on my side.

“Did that asshole have a knife?” My boss asks me. He's frowning deeply. “Fuck, Simon. You may need stitches!”

“Probably,” I agree. The blood has stemmed but it still hurts like a bitch. Nothing magic can't heal. Someone else's magic, I don't think I should even try.

“Want me to call your emergency contact?” He asks me. 

All employees have to submit a form with that information. In case something like this happens. Well, not like this, but in case things with customers become dicey or someone becomes sick.

“Yeah.” I don't attempt to nod, because any movement makes things worse. 

Its five in the morning. I'm usually home by now, or at the gym. Instead, I'm waiting with my boss. I'm fighting sleep harder than I did the goblin, the world is still spinning. 

Penny should be showing up soon. I'm beginning to drift, my mind floating, when there's a knock on the employee entrance. My boss goes to answer it and I just stay with my head down and sleep slowly crawling over me. 

“Thank you for getting here so quickly. He needs to go to the A&E.” I hear my boss say. “He was attacked by a customer. I already told him that he's going to be given the next two weeks off, paid. I'm worried that he may have a concussion, and he may need stitches.”

“Wake up, Snow.”

“You're not Pen.” I try to glare at him but fall short. He's in joggers, his legs impossibly long. His expensive black trainers on his feet. Fuck, I've never seen him so casual. His black t-shirt clings in all the right ways and his hair is down and mused. He's still fit, he'll probably be fit in a wet paper bag. Wait. Then he'd be nude. Baz nude. I don't need any more blood rushing to my face.

“You're observant. She's in Liverpool until tomorrow night. Asked me to come to get you instead. Did she not tell you this?” 

She probably did, but I can't remember.

Baz is leaning down to get a good look at me. “Can you stand?”

“What?” I'm too distracted. “I've never seen you in loungewear before. Your thighs look good, do the joggers make your bum look good? You always had a nice one.”

Baz let's out a soft huff of amusement before helping me stand. My world tilts again and then I'm inhaling his scent. “I'll take him to A&E.” He says to my boss. 

“Let me know how he is later!” My boss says as we walk out.

“I think he thinks you're attractive. You look like a model.” I say while being practically carried toward the Jaguar that's illegally parked in the front. “You're so lovely.”

“What happened?” Baz asks as he opens the car door for me to slide into. 

“Goblin,” I answer, and hiss at my side being jostled.

“Nick's and slick,  _ still _ ?” Baz rolls his eyes and closes my door to go around the car to the driver's side. “I'll spell you well in just a moment. I don't want your boss to see you suddenly becoming better after he's been gracious enough to give you two weeks of paid leave.”

“Yeah, he's a decent sort.” I agree. My head is pressed against the window, probably leaving an oily imprint of my hair and forehead against it. 

“ **Get Well Soon** .” My side instantly feels better. “ **Out Damn Spot** .  **Clean As A Whistle** .” The smell of blood is gone and I feel as if I've been scrubbed clean.

“My head,” I say. I allow myself to taste his magic. Spicy, smoky. Addictive. “I like your magic.”

“Crowley Snow, do shut up.  **Get Well Soon** . Keep your head there until we're a few street lights away from your job.” Baz is shifting gears and we're practically flying. The roads are empty, it's too early for commuters.

My head is fine now. I'm incredibly embarrassed, but I'm not going to take what I said back. 

“Did you kill it?” Baz asks as he switches lanes. He looks a little tired. Worn around the edges.

He showed up and got me when he didn't have to. Penny called him and he came. He didn't have to do that, he could have told me to fuck off. He doesn't have to drive me home now. 

I don't think it's a secret that I'm still in love with Baz. I don't think I'll ever not be in love with him. He must still care for me, or - if nothing else - he loves Penny. Still, he didn't have to come to get me. He didn't have to check on me when Shepard texted him last weekend either. 

“No.” I say, “can't exactly kill a patron while at work.”

“You're thinking things through now?” Baz arches a brow even though he's not looking at me. “Guess that's a sign you're growing up.”

I want to tell him to sod off. 

“But now we have to hunt this goblin down so that it can't jump you after work.” Baz sighs. As if it's all a giant bother to him. 

“We?” I repeat. I've been watching him drive this entire time, not once wondering if he was taking me back to his or if he was going to drop me off at mine. 

“You're right,” Baz glances over at me for a moment, “I'll take care of it. I was awoken two hours earlier than usual. I'll kill it and then get ready for work.”

“What?”

We transition to a smooth stop and Baz puts the car in park. He tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he turns to look at me. I can't help but stare at the curve of his wrist and how his palm tapers off into elegant fingers. I'm lost in the motion of his arm, and the way his hair slides back down to frame his face a moment later.

“Go inside and get some rest,” Baz says. 

We're in front of my building. I'm mildly disappointed, but not surprised. Why would he take me back to his? 

“I,” I start then worried my bottom lip before unbuckling my seat belt. “Thank you, for everything.”

Baz’s mouth twitches briefly. As if he's deciding if he wants to smile. Instead, he nods and unlocks the car doors. “You owe me three times now, Snow. Eventually, I will collect.”

He's such a tosser. But I can't help the grin that crawls up my cheeks. It’s so good to see him, to be around him, I’ve missed him terribly over these last few years. He's not looking at me, but that's alright. 

I let myself out of the car and give him a small wave. He doesn't leave until he sees me go inside.

  
  


**BAZ**

Penelope Bunce is so indebted to me that her children will be owe me. Maybe even her grandchildren.

I find the goblin easy enough, I just follow the scent of Simon’s blood through the city. From there it’s easy to drain the goblin of his blood before incinerating his corpse. Goblins taste strange, like fizzle rocks and lemon juice. Still, it fills me and gives me an odd boost of energy too. As if I've had espresso transfused directly into me. Which is good, I've been awake since before five this morning and won't be home until nearly six this evening. I'm already missing my bed.

I don't want to think about anything Simon said to me while he was indisposed. It's not worth tormenting myself over. Instead, I think of the upcoming weekend. We'll be driving to Watford tomorrow evening. It’s the summer holiday so no children will be on campus if things go bad. (I can't quite shake the feeling that this weekend is going to be an especially terrible one.)

Penelope Bunce owes me so much.


	6. Chapter 6

**AGATHA **

I'm sitting in the front seat of Penelope’s car, Simon in the driver's seat. Penny and Shepard are unconscious in the backseat. They had been in Liverpool for over a day on some type of quest that had to do with Abbadon. I frankly don't know or care. When they were gone I spent time with my parents. It wasn't bad, not as painful as I thought it would be. But as I've gotten older I've realized that our relationship has gotten better due to the distance between us. 

Simon drives with confidence. I wonder when he got his license. How long has he been driving? Who taught him? 

He's watching his rearview mirror even though there's no one behind us. Baz is driving ahead of us, refusing to carpool. 

“I should have gone with Baz,” I mutter while fiddling with Penny's radio. I say it to start some sort of conversation with Simon. He's the sort who prefers long silences, and while I usually don't mind that, I can't spend the entire drive to Watford without uttering a single word, it’s boring. 

Simon sighs and shrugs. “You could have ridden with him. He wouldn't have minded.” 

Would Baz have minded? Probably not. He's become so relaxed as he's gotten older, more confident. More comfortable with himself. I envy him that, he knows who and what he is and seems at ease with it. 

“He would have made conversation, I could've asked him about France,” I say. I've been to France once on holiday as a child. I can't remember much of it, but I know that it was a decent time. It's probably better now, as an adult. 

Simon shrugs again.

“Have you two spoken at all?” I ask because there's nothing else to talk about. It's not that I care, but I am curious. 

“Not really,” Simon says. “I mean, I'm sure we could, but we've never been friends. You know? And what we had was intense. How can I talk to him about mundane things when we've been apart for so long?”

I want to point out that Simon and I dated for three years yet we speak to each other just fine. But he's right, what he and I had was bland. It was two people together for the sake of being together because it's what everyone else wanted. Simon may have wanted me - but as a way to have something normal. With Baz, it was entirely different. The two have been wrapped up in each other for years before getting together. They were like a fire uncontained. Beautiful, fierce, dangerous. Then Simon cocked it up by ending it.

“You could just ask him how he's been,” I say. 

“I've been stalking his social media for the last three years,” Simon says in a tone that's almost full of disbelief. Probably at himself. “And he knows it.”

“That's not communicating,” I frown at him. ”Simon, if you ever want to get back with Baz again, you're going to have to use your words.”

He glances over at me quickly before focusing back on the road. Not that it matters, the only other person driving on it was Baz. “Who says that I want to get back together with him?”

Your behavior, I want to say. Instead, I tell him, “what about being friends? Don’t you at least want to be friends with him?”

“I don’t know if I can be,” Simon admits. “Everything with Baz was so intense, it was too much. I felt too much all the time with him. How can we go from that to being just friends? I don’t think I could have that with him, not after everything.”

I nod, “true. Wait, did you two have sex?” 

Is that what he means? That they breached the physical aspect of their relationship, and after seeing someone naked and being intimate with someone I can understand not being able to be friends. Simon and I never had sex, sure we’d kiss but neither of us was that interested in going further. There just wasn’t any chemistry there. 

His face is becoming blotched in blush and I can’t help but smile widely. 

“How was it? Sex with Baz?” I ask, because I want to genuinely know and because I enjoy making Simon uncomfortable. 

“That’s none of your business,” Simon tells me, though his ears are bright red. 

I nod and lean back in my seat, “I understand. It wasn’t as good as you thought it would be.”

“Agatha,” he says my name through clenched teeth. A warning that I’m refusing to adhere. Why should I? Simon and I grew up together, he’s practically my adopted brother, I have every right to tease him. Plus he makes it so easy, his reactions are priceless. 

“I would have thought that it would have been overwhelming,” I say, “I mean, it’s Baz.”

“He’s soft though,” Penny’s voice croaks from the backseat. I turn to look at her and see that she still has her eyes closed. “Baz is. He’s soft, it’d be all gentle and loving.”

“No, he’s been thirsting for Simon for years, he’d be all hands and fangs.” I disagree. 

“Please shut up,” Simon whines. 

“Plus,” I say to Penny, “Baz is confident. Even when he’s nervous, he acts like he knows what he’s doing.”

“That’s true.” Penny agrees. 

“It was amazing, okay?” Simon groans, “it was amazing, but it was too much, and afterward, I tried to tell him how it was too intense, but I couldn’t get the words out and then things began to fall apart after that.”

This causes the car to go quiet for a moment. 

“Oh Simon,” Penny sighs. 

“Well, this is all the more reason to try and talk to him,” I shrug. “I mean, really talk, Simon. Not eye-fuck him and turn red whenever he catches you. If for no one else than for yourself, give yourself that closure.”

  
  


**SHEPARD**

Watford School of Magick isn’t anything like Hogwarts. I mean, I know that Hogwarts is fake and this is real, so there’s that. The grounds leave me feeling prickly and off-kilter. Penny said it was the magic in the school, it prevents Normals from wanting to go on campus. 

It looks like a village, there’s a square in the center of the school with a large fountain, and brick buildings surrounding it. We left the cars in the staff parking lot and walked the rest of the way with our bags on our backs. The sun had already set so things couldn’t be explored until the next morning either way. 

“We’ll be staying at Mummers House,” Penny states, “Mum said it would be available for us.”

“And the food?” Simon asks. 

“Oh,” Penny groans, “I forgot about that.”

“Unprepared as always, Bunce. This is why I’m smarter than you.” Baz says; he’s behind the rest of us, rolling his bag behind him and carrying a book bag. “I’ve packed enough provisions for a minimum of four days, longer if we ration it - although I don’t plan on being here longer than the weekend. It was the best solution since I’m aware that the closest village is two hours away.”

“I’ve had other things on my mind, Basil!” Penny says, but the smile on her face ruins her harsh tone of voice. She always hates to admit when she overlooks something, especially something as crucial as food.

“Mummers House is the boy’s dorms?” I ask the group in general. There are various affirmatives thrown my way and I wish I could explore the campus. Maybe tomorrow, but probably not. Penny says that we need to go into the Wavering Woods and check out the Third Gate. We’ve spent a day and a half in Liverpool following a lead to find the Third Gate. If we can cross the threshold, it leads to a land where the fairies allegedly ran off to. A place where we can find a tool to kill Abbadon. 

“Are you guys going to use your old room?” Agatha asks Simon and Baz. 

“Snow can use the room, if he wants,” Baz offers. 

We’re already at the front door of what I assume is Mummers House. It looks kind of like a smaller version of the abbey in Downton Abbey. With one tower that seems to oversee the rest of the building.

“What?” Simon asks as he walks in first, the lights in the building immediately turn on. “No, you can have the room.”

I roll my eyes at them as I follow Agatha into the building. The first floor has maybe five rooms, and there are five floors, six if the tower is included. Just by math alone, there are only fifty boys in the entire school, which can’t be right. It’s a large campus though, I think Penny said that there are other dorms available too, but Mummers House is the oldest.

“Crowley,” Penny huffed. “Sort yourselves out, I’m going to be staying on the ground floor.”

“Hard same,” Agatha says, they take the rooms beside one another.

I take one on the other side of Agatha. “Where’s the bathroom around here?”

“It’s communal,” Simon answers, he’s watching Baz begin to walk up the stairs. “Down the hallway, last door.”

I wonder which room was theirs, guess it’s up on one of the higher floors. 

“Wait!” Penny reemerges a moment later, “let’s get some of that food, Basilton.”

  
  
  


**BAZ**

I spent an hour in the catacombs. I visited my mother and then hunted for rats. Fucking rats. It’s been nearly five years since I’ve had to drain vermin and I had hoped that I would never have to do that again. 

Although I had been right about one thing - the school was bloody infested. I drank more than I should have, and I can feel it sloshing around in my belly as I make my way back to the tower. Why am I going back to the tower? Out of all of the empty bedrooms, I didn’t have to go into our old one. What made it worse was that the beds were still spelled together from my Leavers Ball. And they wouldn’t unspell. We have a fucking king-sized bed in the middle of our old bedroom, I should just go to the first floor with everyone else. What am I even doing?

Why am I even here? Altogether, full stop, why? I’m not necessary for this stupid adventure. Yes, I like Shepard, he’s a decent sort, but I was serious when I told Penelope that I had a life and responsibilities, like most adults. I also feel guilty about Agatha spending a portion of her two week holiday being dragged throughout Great Britain to solve this case. (Although that’s entirely her own decision.)

I shouldn’t even be here. 

I’m entering our old room, thinking of just packing my belongings and leaving, but Simon is sitting on the bed in track shorts and a plain white tank top, looking at his phone. How many times have I wished for this? For Simon to be with me like this? It’s perverse of me to want to keep this, pretend that this is us. He’s stubborn and refuses to bend, he made it clear that he wasn’t leaving the room. I am not the same person that I once was, and I’ll gladly break for Simon if I need to. 

“Where are you going?” He asks me as he watches me close my suitcase. He ate his portion of the sandwiches and crisps (which is why I packed him double the amount.)

“Downstairs.”

“Why?”

“Honestly Snow, don’t be daft,” I say it softly, as more of a sigh than anything else. I wonder if the Anathema would still prevent us from lunging toward each other’s throats if things go bad.

“Baz,” Simon worries his lower lip, but I think it’s the first time he’s said my name since I first saw him again. “The bed is plenty big, and this is your room too.”

He’s not wrong, it is my room too. It was. Back when we were in school, but that was years ago and I've got a new room in a posh flat with a memory foam mattress. My words are caught in my throat by his earnest expression. What exactly is he hoping to gain? Is he expecting something from me? I know myself well enough to accept that if Simon Snow were to try to have sex with me tonight that I would go with it because I’m weak. 

Instead, I take my sleepwear out of my bag, along with my toiletries, and lock myself in the bathroom. 

  
  
  


**SIMON**

He’s staying, I can’t believe that he is. I didn’t expect him to. I expected him to march downstairs and not see him again until the morning. If he stayed. But no, he’s staying if he’s spending the night here, in the tower, with me, in our shared bed. 

We had curled up together tightly the night of his Leavers Ball. No interruptions from each other. Just kissing and handholding and falling asleep to the smell of Baz’s shampoo. He never ‘As You Were’d the beds and I guess now they’re stuck. Baz tried to unspell them earlier, and then I tried when he went down to the catacombs to feed. Maybe the beds just realized they were happier together than apart. It’s a stupid thought, but it’s the only thing I could come up with while up here alone. 

When he comes out of the bath - bringing with him his fresh his scent - he’s wearing a pair of burgundy joggers, black socks and a black v-neck t-shirt that has me staring at his collar bone. His hair is slicked back into a low ponytail. 

He looks good. Baz always looked good, but this is the first time that I’ve really gotten to look at him. I mean, get my fill of it. (Will I ever truly get my fill of looking at him? Even with our years apart I still can’t stop.)

“What time is it?” Baz asks me, he seems reluctant to sit on the other side of the bed. The side which was once his side of the room. He’s never backed down from a challenge though, and I can see him renew his resolve as he turned the corner of the comforter down.

“Just after ten,” I say. It’s still early, at least for me it is. I’m typically at work by now, making the rounds and laughing at terrible jokes customers have made. 

Baz lies down on his stomach and peers up at me through his lashes and I have to swallow uselessly down at him. Fuck, maybe it would have been better for one of us to have gone to one of the other bedrooms. I slide underneath my side of the blankets and watch as Baz turns off the lights with magic. 

There’s a slight breeze coming from the window that was cracked open a bit. The smell of the moat and the fresh summer air is strong, it competes with Baz’s soap. It’s achingly familiar, it has me yearning for how things once were, how things could have been if I hadn’t broken it off. No, that’s not right. Baz would have ended it for sure, I know he would have, he just didn’t realize it yet. 

He’s not asleep, I grew up listening to his sleep noises and he’s not even bothering to pretend that he is. 

I want to reach out to him, to touch him anywhere. His hair, his shoulder, to lace his fingers in mine. I don’t. I won’t. He’s not mine anymore, he hasn’t been in years. Instead, I curl to face him and think about what Agatha said in the car earlier. 

“How have you been?” I whisper it. We’re so close that I can practically feel the coolness of his body.

“Are you honestly attempting small talk with me?” Baz asks. It’s a defensive answer and one that I was prepared for. He’s always been like this. 

“Yes,” I answer honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever lied to him, not even while we were growing up. I’m a shit liar and I never saw the point in doing so to him, even if he was supposed to be my rival. 

Baz sighs, “I’ve been well, thank you.”

Silence. This has been a horrible idea, but I don’t care. I get to spend the night watching him breathe, and I don’t care if that’s creepy, I’m obsessed with him and I probably always will be. If he falls asleep first then I’ll at least have this. 

“When did you give up carbs?” Baz asks, “you said that you did earlier, during dinner.”

When I practically inhaled three roast beef sandwiches that he packed specifically for me. 

I smile at him, and I wonder if he can see it. Probably, he’s got wicked night vision. “I started CrossFit a little after we came back from America. I wanted to do something good with myself. So, I started eating right - and that was hard. Then I began to see my therapist again, and I quit Uni to become a bartender. I wanted to take care of myself, body and mind, you know? I’m - I’m better now.”

He didn’t ask about any of the rest, but I want him to know. I want Baz to know that I’m better than I was. I’m not a complete fuck-up, not how I had been when we were together. 

His eyes are shining in the dark, I can just make them out. “I’m glad that you’re better.”

“Me too,” I say. “What about you?”

“What about me?” He asks. 

“Baz,” I say his name in exasperation. 

Now he’s smiling at me. “What is there to say? You stalked my social media, you know that I finished school in France, and now I’m back in England.”

“What did you do while you were in France?” Who did you do? It’s none of my business, but I want to know more about his boyfriend. I don’t know why; it’s just me trying to hurt myself. “Were you happy there?”

Was he happier without me in his life?

  
  


**BAZ**

“France, Paris, is lovely,” I say because he’s pushing. He hasn’t pushed me for more in years, and for the first time since school, I feel as if I’m finally speaking with the real Simon. “It’s different than here, but there is no place like home.”

“What about Emanuel?” Simon asks. 

I want to roll my eyes at that question. “What about him, Snow?”

Simon shifts and I can tell he’s uncomfortable. If he still had his wings and tail they would be twitching and ruffling. He’s never been hard to read until he decided to board himself up. Until he shut me out. 

“It’s just, I mean,” Simon stutters. It should be annoying, instead, I’m bloody endeared by it. I half want to push him out of bed. 

“You mean?” I shake my head and shift so that I can get more comfortable. My body begins to relax after a long day of work and driving. “Are you trying to ask something in particular about him and I? What? Are you asking if we’re friends? Boyfriends? Friends with benefits?”

I’m antagonizing him on purpose. I shouldn’t. I haven’t done this in years. It must be the room’s influence and the fact that he’s so close to me. I can move my foot just a few centimeters and I’ll be touching his shin. I can feel his warmth and I’m surrounded by his smell. Apples and buttery popcorn. His heart is pounding, he hasn’t relaxed a bit since I’ve come into the room, but I’m refusing to leave now. He brought this upon himself. He can only blame himself for any discomfort he may feel on the topic, and how dare he feel any sort of way? He broke up with me. 

A small part wants to point out that he’s only uncomfortable because he does care. Simon still cares, even if he’s not sure how or why; because he’s stupid. Last I had known he hadn’t even known if he were gay. 

“Was he good for you?” Simon asks instead, his voice lower than before. Almost as if he’s afraid of the answer. 

“No,” I snort. “He’s an idiot and I’m not sure why I allowed him in my vicinity for as long as I did.”

“So you like him a lot,” Simon nods against his pillow. I can’t make out his features, not quite, only that his brows are furrowed and his mouth is pursed. I’d kiss that mouth now if I could. If he’d let me. 

“We weren’t boyfriends,” I say, although I hate saying it. “Not that it’s your business.” Emmanuel and I were friends and sometimes we tumbled into bed together, but there was never anything else there. There could have been, Emmanuel and I could have been something amazing, if not for the Simon shaped hole between us.

“I haven’t dated anyone these past three years,” Simon admits. “I’ve been too busy working on myself to worry about that sort of thing.”

He wants to say more. He has this tell when there are words at the edge of his tongue that he just can’t or won’t say. It’s in the way his jaw clenches and the way his heart almost skips a beat. 

“Hm,” I hum. I don’t know what he wants me to say to that. I’m not going to lie. Unlike him, I have been on dates. With various men, all with brown hair and blue eyes. Some with moles, some with freckles, some shorter than him some taller than him. None of them Simon. 

“Do you regret coming back?”

“Crowley, you’re full of questions,” I yawn. “Does it matter if I do? My father and I made a deal that I would return after I was done with University, and now I’m here.”

“Oh,” Simon’s hot breath washes over my shoulder. He scooted closer to me without my realizing it.

“Do you enjoy bartending?” I ask him. 

“Yeah, I mean other than the two random attacks, it’s pretty great,” Simon says. “I’ve been saving up for a motorbike recently.”

I can imagine it, Simon in a leather jacket and sleek black helmet. It’s a fantasy that could go so many ways. “When did you get your license?”

“A little after we came back. You taught me the basics, and then I took courses,” Simon yawns. “How has your family been?”

I think I answer him, but I’m half asleep and my words come out sluggishly. And it must have been my imagination, but I swore that Simon pressed a soft kiss to my temple before sleep fully claimed me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portions of this chapter are a nod to Rebel, Rebel by BasicBathsheba.

**SIMON**

I wake up curled into a ball, with Baz’s toes digging into my thigh. He moved toward my body warmth throughout the night and his feet are practically hidden under me, between my thigh and the mattress. His stockinged toes are like small daggers digging into my bare skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if I have bruises there. He’s also taken all of the comforter for himself - because he’s a bloody blanket hog, and the only visible part of him is the crown of his head where his hair is sticking up in different directions. 

His chest is rising and falling, and I listen to him breathe. 

The sun is up, but barely, and I’m groggy as I rub at my face. What woke me up? Something woke me up.

There’s the sound of buzzing coming from the floor near Baz’s bag. His phone. Who the hell was calling him so early on a Saturday? Anyone who knows Baz knows that he sleeps in. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch, groaning softly as my spine pops. May as well get up and ready for the day, no doubt Penny will burst through the door at any moment. 

I go to our bags and check my phone from where it’s charging beside Baz’s. Just a text from my boss asking me how I’m feeling. I’ll answer him later. I glance over at Baz’s phone and immediately wish that I hadn’t. 

Emmanuel [07:15]: This stuffed bear reminds me of you.

Emmanuel [07:16]: <jpg.>

Emmanuel [07:17]: When are you coming back?

Emmanuel [07:18]: Paris misses you mon petit morveux!

I swallow the lump in my throat, I guess I should have expected that they’d still be in contact. Why wouldn’t they be? What exactly am I to Baz? Nothing. I’m just his pain in the ass ex-boyfriend who somehow always drags him into trouble. Emmanuel is probably posh as fuck, probably just as handsome as Baz, and wealthy and intelligent. Baz’s equal in every way, and Baz likes him.

I dress and get ready for the day, taking the bag of food that Baz had packed down the stairs with me so that we could all enjoy breakfast. Only I felt agitated the entire walk down, I know that I have no right. Why should I be allowed to be jealous? It’s stupid, it’s been three years, I’m the one who ended things. So what if we talked until we fell asleep last night? That doesn’t mean anything, Baz and I aren’t friends. 

I’m in a full strop by the time I barge into the room Penny’s staying in. 

She’s tying her shoes, some sort of hiking boots with steel toes, and jumps as I barge in. 

“Pen!” I say, placing the bag on the empty bed across from her and tugging on my hair as I pace the floor. 

Penny watches me before going back to tying her other shoe and then getting up to flip her hair over to put it into a huge bun on the top of her head. I’m still pacing when she finishes. 

“Are you going to vocalize what’s wrong?” Penny asks me. 

“Baz’s phone woke me up this morning,” I say. I stop pacing and face her. “Emmanuel was texting him.”

“Ok?” Penny says it slowly as if she can’t understand why I’m a mess of emotions over this. “They’re friends, that’s allowed.”

  
  


**PENNY**

“_Friends_?” Simon echoes, looking mad as he pulls on his hair. He’s going to wind up bald if he continues to do that. “Didn’t they live together? They probably lived in some posh French villa with a fucking pet poodle - poodles are very French - that Baz named Dinner because he’s a sick fuck like that.”

“What?” I’m thoroughly confused. How did Simon even reach this conclusion? “Slow down, let’s start over. Emmanuel texted Baz this morning and you are upset about this?”

I highly doubt it was an inappropriate text. Though it maybe had been stupid and maybe a little flirty. That would be the only reason for this reaction.

I know Simon still loves Baz, I know Baz still loves Simon. This is jealousy at its finest, and I also know that Simon knows that he has no right to be getting all worked up over it. I’m sure Baz would love to see this. He’d act dispassionate about it and uninterested, but inside he’d be tickled. 

“Baz says they weren’t boyfriends, but living with someone? Having a life with them? That’s everything like a boyfriend without the title!” If Simon were still the powerhouse he had been as a child he’d have gone off by now. 

“Simon, sit down,” I say. I’m pleased when he listens. “Okay, let me get this out in the open before you go and do something stupid. Baz and Emmanuel never lived together, Baz lived in a one-bedroom flat that I often would couch crash on whenever I was in France. He and Emmanuel were never together, and...a poodle named Dinner? Honestly, what goes on in your head?”

“Shepard said that he wanted to ask about vampires living together.” Simon looks at me with wide blue eyes. 

“So you automatically assume it’s that they lived together?” I shake my head. That makes sense. “Simon, Emmanuel runs a home for vampires, for new ones who have no one to turn to, and for older ones who have nowhere to go.”

Understanding shows on his face. 

“Either way, if Baz had boyfriends during your time apart, if he lived with someone else, if he was intimate with others - it’s none of your business. You do know that, right?” I try to ask it gently, but sometimes there was just no way to get my words across without being blunt. My frankness is what drew Simon to me to begin with, and it’s kept our friendship honest. 

“Rationally I know that,” Simon sighs. “Baz is allowed to do what he wants. I want him to be happy, and if someone else makes him happy then that’s great.”

“Don’t do that,” I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a loud sigh. “Don’t do that self-sacrificing bullshit. Look - you love him, yeah? He’s back after you ran him out of the country - don’t look at me like that Simon you know that’s why he left - see this as another chance for you two. You have the opportunity now. Just, don’t muck this up.”

“How can I not?” Simon shakes his head. He rubs at his face and groans again before standing. “Come on, let’s get everyone up and eating breakfast. We have shit to get done today and there are only so many hours of light that we can use.”

  
  


**BAZ**

Penny had suggested that we all wear jeans, comfortable walking shoes, and shirts we wouldn’t miss if something happened to them. Those of us with longer hair have put it up. I have my old Watford Football hoodie on since the woods are cool even in the summer. 

“The fifth white hare, the one in the nursery, told us where to go,” Sheppard says, “it’s a mural on the wall and it talked. I’ve seen a lot, and I’m still amazed by the magic.”

They - Shepard and Simon - went to the older nursery this morning before I woke up. We’re walking across the pitch and toward the Wavering Wood. I haven’t been in the damn woods since the end of our seventh year when Agatha caught me hunting and Simon and Penny disappeared. I think about that sometimes, how Simon and Penny vanished as soon as Simon saw me with his then-girlfriend. If he was the Humdrum, and the Humdrum didn’t use magic, he couldn’t. I've got a theory that Simon Snow subconsciously did that to himself. 

As it is now, Simon is leading the group, his wand at the ready. He’s been slowly getting his magic back, and I can’t help but wonder how he feels about it. I’m in the back of the group, right behind the only Normal who has probably ever set foot in the Wavering Wood. He’s not the first Normal to be on Watford’s campus, our sports teams did play other schools. He is the first to truly get a good look at things. 

Since Shepard is the only one without magic, he’s the one carrying a pack of food, medical supplies, and water. 

We’re walking for nearly an hour, the wood nymphs have been watching our procession with curious gazes, but no one has come out to greet us. Probably since we have Normal with us. They’ve never had an issue with the rest of us, and I know that they loved Agatha. 

“It should be coming up,” Simon says from the front. His red t-shirt hugs him in all the right ways, and when I first saw him in it my mouth went dry. I’ve always been attracted to him, I’ll always be attracted to him, but something about the way he looks now. 

There’s a clearing up ahead, and we pause in front of a circle of standing stones. There’s dense fog here, and it feels ominous. 

“This is some heavy magic,” Agatha mutters. “I had forgotten that this was how the gates felt.”

She’s not wrong. The pressure of magic is enough to leave me lightheaded, the other three look as if they’re high. 

“It’s in the center.” Penny points, in the middle of the rings, carved into the ground, are words. Celtic runes, if I’m reading correctly. “Basil, would you like to translate?”

I roll my eyes, “how did you manage the other two gates?”

I begin to walk toward the center when I realize my mistake. As soon as the toe of my shoe hits the inner ring I can feel the magic push at me. If I hadn’t been caught off guard as I had, I would not be currently flying through the air. My back takes the brunt of my fall, cracking through trees as I careen back into the woods.

  
  


**SIMON**

Can a vampire die of a broken neck? Can a vampire die of a broken back? I’m full of adrenaline as I watch Baz break through several trees. 

“Holy shit!” Shepard cries out. 

“Baz!” Penny and Agatha scream. 

My feet are running before I even realize I’ve moved. I’m jumping over broken pieces of branches and deeper into the woods. Baz flew further than I would have expected him to have. He’s a splash of purple and gray, his Watford hoodie standing out against the green foliage. 

He’s not moving, his back is to me and his clothes are torn, his hair is free from its ponytail.

“Don’t you fucking be dead,” I growl as I skid to a stop beside him, falling to my knees and twisting around to feel for his pulse. I hold my breath and wait, his one beat for every two or three of mine. There it is. I let out a heavy sigh of relief as everything catches up to me, leaving me a quivering mess of nerves and pointing my shaking wand at him. It’s times like this that I miss being able to just effortlessly wish things better. “**Early To Bed And Early To Rise** . **Get Well Soon**.”

The two spells are all that I can manage, but Baz stirs. 

“Fuck,” He gasps as he tries to sit up. I immediately have my hands on him, helping him into a sitting position. Should he even be sitting up?

I want to ask him if he’s alright, but that would be stupid. Of course he’s not alright, he flew through fucking trees. 

“Do you think you need more healing spells?” I ask. 

Baz shakes his head and pushes up to stand, which means I stand with him. My hand remains on his lower back for longer than it probably needs to, but I can’t help it. 

“Are you sure you’re fine to keep going?” I ask while looking up at him. Always up. I want to reach up and tuck his hair behind his ears or redo his ponytail for him. We’re close enough that I can make up all the greens and blues in his eyes. I know I'm being overly worried, this is a man who's taken gunshots to the chest and survived. But what just happened wasn't from man made objects, it was pure magic. 

“I’m fine,” his voice is low. 

I nod and take a step away from him, “did you get the read the runes?” I ask as we head back to the others. 

“I did,” Baz answers. 

When we arrive at the clearing, Penny and Agatha have climbed on top of the standing stones, their phones out, trying to capture a photo of the center. 

“Dude,” Shepard is looking Baz over, “I’ve seen you take a bullet to the chest, but I still have to ask - are you okay?”

“Tip-top,” Baz says sardonically. “Bunce and Wellbelove, come here, I know what it says.”

  
  
  


**PENNY**

“True loves kiss?” Agatha is wrinkling her nose. “What does that even mean? What equates as ‘true love’? I love everyone here, does that mean I have to kiss everyone?”

“It’d be all of your school girl fantasies come true to kiss me,” Baz smirks at her as he redoes his ponytail. 

I roll my eyes at Simon’s heavy frown. 

Agatha, on the other hand, tilts her head a bit and gives Baz a demure look. “Pucker up, Pitch.”

“Children, please,” I say over their laughter. “Focus.”

“It’s the fog,” Shepard says, “makes people with magic loopy.”

“So we should just all kiss each other to be safe?” Simon asks. He’s been slowly leaning onto Baz. “Would that even work? Wait...why are we even here at the third gate?”

“I told you,” I shake my head. It’s becoming difficult to clear it. 

“When Penny and I went to Liverpool based off of a lead, there’s a weapon behind this gate that can kill the demon that cursed me. It’s a magical instrument.” Shepard is the only one still remotely sober in our group. “Something that the fairies have.”

“Bloody, fuck, what?” Agatha’s brown eyes are wide. “The fairies?”

“True love’s kiss will open the gate,” Baz repeats, “that’s exceedingly simple. Why would they make it so easy to find them?”

They’re a bunch of babbling idiots. I take Shepard by the wrist and begin to lead him into the center of the standing stones. The magic doesn’t push at him the way it did Baz, and I’m ready for it. 

“Penny, what?” Shepard asks. His expression of surprise, his wrist is thin but strong. I can feel his bone protruding under my thumb but it’s comforting. A reminder that he’s here, he’s still here and the demon that’s cursed him hasn’t claimed him yet. 

He’s handsome. So handsome, with his defining bone structure and his plush mouth. He hasn’t changed much in three years, but he’s filled out a bit so that he’s not as lanky as he was. I love him. It’s so odd, I don’t have room for one more person in my life. My family is big, and my found family is already large enough. Yet I can’t stop myself from loving him. Unadulterated, unconditional, love - a romantic version of how I feel for Simon. It’s strange that I’m comparing my love for Shepard with how I feel for Simon, it’s not remotely the same. But it takes everything from me, and I’d gladly give it my all.

(He’s a Normal too. Fifth-year Penelope would have torn me a new one for falling in love with a Normal.)

There’s a part of me that feels as if I should be terrified of this. It’s bigger than me. Is this how my parents feel about each other? Is this what love is? I only have Micah to compare this to, and I’ve never felt a fraction of what I feel for Shepard toward Micah. Not even a hint of it. 

“Do shut up,” I mutter. He’s not stupid, he knows why we’re here. His eyes have softened now, and I pinch my knees together to prevent them from giving out on me. They’re suddenly weak, he makes me so weak. Shepard allows me to yank him down to my level. 

“Pen, are you sure?” He asks me. Uncertainty coloring his tone.

And then I kiss him.


	8. Chapter 8

**BAZ**

Simon is clutching onto my hoodies cuff sleeve tightly. I can hear him swallowing as we stare at the gate that’s open for us. Its doorway is wide and made of ornately carved wood. It wasn’t there before Penny decided to tongue Shepard in front of us all. 

“This isn’t a hallucination, right?” Agatha asks from my other side. 

I properly take Simon’s hand and then reach for Agatha’s with my other. We have no idea if we’ll end up separated on the other side, or if the gate would even stay open once we walk through.

Penny and Shepard are holding hands, but Penny takes Simon’s free one, and we walk into the fairy realm as a chain.

  
  
  


**AGATHA**

The colors here are saturated. The sky is too blue, the grass is too green, the flowers are bright yellow and too large. Everything smells of honeysuckle and cotton candy.

Is this Underland? Is this where Alice got lost?

I squeeze Baz’s hand tighter than I should, but he gently squeezes back. Being here is making my magic spike, and I don’t like it. I feel on edge, almost as if I can combust. There’s too much magic here, and the sharpness of everything hurts my head. It’s an overload on the senses. 

In the distance, I can see what looks to be a castle or a city? How do the fairies even live? There’s a yellow brick road leading the way and my stomach nearly drops at the sight. Why does everything here feel so damn foreboding? 

  
  


**SHEPARD**

How many people can say they went into the fairy realm? Fae realm? Which is correct? The air is overly sweet, like how you’d smell if you worked in a candy shop. Fermented chocolate and sugar. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose at how pungent it is. 

I can’t help but wonder how the fairies were - their temperament and manners. Would they be okay with us being here? They hid from mages for a reason. Maybe if we’re lucky we can get what we need and leave without causing any sort of scene. 

  
  
  


**PENNY**

Great snakes I can’t believe we did it. We did what people have been attempting to do for decades, longer than that. We found the fairies! First mages to do so in a long time. I wish I could study our surroundings, but we’re on a short schedule and we have no time to spare. 

“Right, we’re looking for a crystal violin,” I say while letting go of Simon and Shepard’s hands. I stand in front of the others and lift my ring hand. “**See What I Mean**.”

The map that I had copied from the unicorn in Liverpool forms before me. Along with a small red dot of where we are, and another one of where the violin could be found. A crystal violin sounds like a stupid tool, and how is it supposed to kill a demon? But our source is a reliable one, and I’m not going to doubt our only lead.

The unicorn did warn us about the flowers. They’re venomous and they infect the blood. The only way to get the poison out of your system is by removing the blood. I suppose it’s lucky that we have a vampire on our side, although I’d hate to subjugate Baz to doing that when he’s been so careful to not drink human blood. That would be cruel to him. 

“And if the fairies aren’t keen on letting us have this crystal violin, then what?” Simon asks. He’s still holding Baz’s hand. “It’s not as if we have the element of surprise, pretty sure everyone saw a giant fucking door pop open from the middle of nowhere.”

The gate is behind us, perfectly visible, and closed. 

“Love opens it from this side too,” Baz is reading the carving around the gate. He takes his phone out of his front pocket and snaps a photo. It’s probably only working still because he fell onto his back and not his front. “Snow has a point.”

“Then I guess we fight,” I frown. “Try not to if you can help it.”

  
  
  


**SIMON**

I don’t like it here. It’s unsettling, there’s no breeze at all and the air is heavy. And my magic feels as if it’s fuller than it ought to be - I had been tapped out after healing Baz. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, and it makes me wonder what exactly this place does to magic. 

We’re following the yellow brick road. I hate it.

It’s difficult to be stealthy when nothing is obstructing our view of the buildings on the horizon - they’re not as far as they may have seemed. So if we can see them perfectly fine, then they have an open view of us. Which means that they can get the jump on us at any time. They can pick us off one by one or all at once, doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I don’t want to fucking die here. 

Baz is letting me stay latched onto him and I appreciate it. I don’t think he understands how nervous this place makes me. 

“We’re just going to walk right into their city?” Agatha shakes her head. “Penelope, never let it be said that you don’t have a set on you.”

Shepard lets out a shaky laugh but he doesn’t disagree. 

Instead of having a panic attack, which may happen the more my magic rises. I try to focus on the things around me. The sky's too blue to feel real, there’s not a single cloud or bird or airplane. The city that we’re approaching looks as if it’s made of crystal. It’s shiny and cool, and I kind of want to touch it. Baz’s hand is strong and cool and calloused. His long fingers are linked through mine and he occasionally rubs his thumb along my knuckles. He can probably feel me trembling. 

I hadn’t realized that feeling a sudden surge of magic would turn me into a mess. But I suppose that makes sense. According to my therapist, my magic traumatized me. (Actually, a lot of shit did, magic was just a fraction of it.) 

“Scouts are coming this way,” Baz’s voice cuts through the thick tension that was building between all of us the closer we got to the buildings. “Two of them.” He’s standing straighter, shoulder pushed back.

We can make the figures out, but not clearly. Their gossamer wings shimmered in the sunlight. Their skin looked almost pinkish purple from here. 

“They don’t appear armed, but we don’t know how fairy magic works,” Baz says, but he has his wand in his long sleeve, tucked neatly against his arm and ready to be used whenever he may need it. 

My wand is in my jeans pockets. I wish I had a better magical instrument; a ring would be nice. Something that I wouldn’t worry about losing. 

“Halt!” A high pitched, childish voice, commanded as soon as the fairies got closer. They were small. Shorter than Penny, and petite in a way that would be considered malnourished by human standards. “State your business, trespassers!”

I can’t place their accents. Maybe they still speak the way people did back in the old days. They’re strange-looking - which is terrible for me to say considering I was practically a deformed dragon for two years. Their eyes are large, with too long lashes, and their noses are small. They look kind of like those old Bratz dolls, now that I look at them. Like a toy that a child would play with.

Shepard speaks up. I figure he’s an expert at dealing with the unknown. “Hello, my name is Shepard, my friends and I mean you no harm.”

“A human!” The second fairy states, their voice going so high it’s practically a screech. “Mages! An abomination! They’ve brought an abomination!” 

Shepard had his hands out toward them, palms up, “we’re just looking for help. We were sent by Gertrude, the unicorn. We wouldn’t have come here if not for her.”

  
  
  


**SHEPARD**

If lore is correct, fairies aren’t violent creatures. They’re tricksters who never tell whole truths and can’t be trusted, they want to keep people in their realm until the person dies. And the one extremely important rule - never eat or drink anything that a fairy offers. 

We’re being led through the city where there looks to be a festival. The music is almost hypnotizing, and I catch myself bobbing my head along with it. The people part like the Red Sea did for Moses as we’re marched through the street. 

Several fairies are openly gawking at us. Some have hidden they’re children from our view. If the smell outside of the city was sweet, the scents from the city make my head spin. 

There’s a large crystal building at the very center. It’s the one that we had been able to see from the gate. They’re leading us right to where we need to be, the crystal violin in the center of the city.

“The queen will see you,” one of the fairies says. “The Queen of Hearts.”

Well, that’s scary as fuck. I’m hoping that this isn’t anything like Alice in Wonderland and that the queen won’t try to chop our heads off. 

Everything around us glitters iridescently, shimmering rainbows are basically on every wall. It’s pretty, in an almost holographic way. It reminds me of childhood, of collecting shiny Pokemon cards and shiny silver stickers. 

There’s an even bigger party going on in - what I’m not assuming is - the palace. Pink tulle and glitter are everywhere. Like someone gave a little kid with a princess complex full reign of decorating. 

The music stopped as soon as we were let into what appeared to be a banquet hall. 

“What,” probably the deepest voice we’ve heard here so far, says over the din of murmurs that have erupted at our appearance. “Is the meaning of this?”

There stands a fairy, a little smaller than the others. Dark brown skin, tightly coiled curls, covered in the color pink. Their wings shimmered brighter than anyone else’s. The Queen of Hearts is transgender and black. The books got it all wrong. 

  
  


**BAZ**

I hate it here. The colors and scents are too sharp and it hurts me. I - a vampire - am not meant for a place this bright. I want to set this entire place on fire and we’ve only been here for maybe two hours. 

The Queen is giving me a saccharine smile that makes me want to sneer in response. I don’t. I remain passive. 

“Intruders, my Queen,” one of the puny fairy guards says. 

“I can see that,” The Queen responds, though her dark eyes remain solely on me. “Tell me, what would possess you to think that entering our realm is wise?”

“Gertrude sent us, she said that you have a tool that can help us defeat Abbadon.” Penny is fearless, her chin tilted up and hands on her hips. “We don’t mean any disrespect, and we wouldn’t have come if it weren’t dire.”

I wonder how much of that is a lie. I know her well enough to know that finding the fairies was on her bucket list. 

“Pretty abomination,” The Queen’s voice is melodious. Her magic floods the room with tittering and giggles. She’s trying to use her magic on me, and that just isn’t on. 

  
  


**PENNY**

Did it just get hot in here?

  
  


**SHEPARD**

He’s using his thrall! This is so exciting! I hope we don’t get killed for this.

  
  
  


**AGATHA**

Holy shit.

  
  


**SIMON**

Baz’s eyes become hooded and he shifts so that his left hip is jutted out. And suddenly he’s oozing sex appeal - he’s always been attractive (I’m not the only person who thinks this) but this is the first time I’ve seen him actively appear this way and it makes my insides burst into flames. I can’t look away from him. 

  
  


**BAZ**

“We’re here,” I say, allowing my thrall to be heard in my tone. My voice deepens and smooths, I learned how to do this in France, and I’ve told myself that I would never need for it. Apparently, I do need it, in a pissing match against a fucking fairy queen. This is my life. “For exactly what my friend said we’re here for.”

“To defeat the demon Abbadon,” The Queen repeats. She brings her long-nailed finger up to her painted pink mouth. She’s trying to draw my attention to her mouth and her perfectly white teeth. Aesthetically, she is beautiful, all androgynous lines and pretty smiles. Though she’s barking up the wrong tree. 

I have the upper hand then, “yes, Highness.”

“Oh, you’re very good at this,” The Queen laughs and it’s like bells. She does everything so prettily, she puts Wellbelove to shame. “Very well, we’ll get you the crystal violin. And then you shall be my guest for our ball.”

  
  
  


**AGATHA**

They put us on the top of their tower, in what looks to be a penthouse. Everything is made of glass and ceramic, everything sparkles and shimmers, almost as if covered in glitter. 

“This is a lovely prison cell,” Penny snorts. 

We were left alone but are unable to leave. They didn’t take our magical instruments, so that’s a positive. Maybe we can’t use magic the same here, or maybe they just didn’t think to do it. They patted Baz down though. But I think that was more to touch him than anything else, he’s the tallest person in our group and he towered over everyone we walked by. (And he’s, admittedly, very good looking). 

As soon as the door is closed behind us, Baz takes his wand out and points at it, “**Open Sesame**.”

Nothing. 

“**Love Is An Open Door**.” 

I snort at the fact that Basilton Grimm-Pitch was using Disney songs to try to open the door. It’s smart though, and it’s a complex spell. The caster has to be in love for it to work. 

“**I Want To Break Free**.” Queen, that seems more like his speed.

Nothing works. Shepard goes up to the door and attempts to try the handle. He shrugs when it doesn’t open for him, not that it would have. Still, I suppose it’s better than trying all the spells in the world and realizing that it was unlocked the entire time.

We eventually give up and explore the penthouse.

The only time the door opened was for a cart of food to be delivered. We all ignored it. It’s maybe half an hour after the food arrives that another fairy arrives with a box in hand that almost as long as the fairy is tall. It’s not shaped like a violin case, it’s long and rectangular. 

“The crystal violin,” the fairy states while putting it on the dining area’s table before leaving and locking the door behind them. 

“It doesn’t look like a violin,” Simon says. 

“Because it’s not,” Penny says while opening the box. 

I don’t know much about swords, but it’s the most beautiful one that I’ve ever seen. Made of the same material this building is made from, shimmering and magic barely contained. 

“Only the purest of heart can wield it,” Shepard sounds as if he’s quoting someone. “It was a sword forged by angels.”

“Where are we going to find a person with a pure heart?” Simon asks, “it’s not like we’re sending a child out to fight a demon.”

I stare at him. Nice and hard. 

“Who else other than the Chosen One to wield the blade of angels?” Baz rolls his eyes. “Magic doesn’t work to unlock the doors, so I suppose we’ll have to wait until it’s time for this stupid ball to make our getaway.”

I want to ask Basil if he can just rip the door off its hinges, but then I wonder when was the last time he fed. If he’s physically capable of doing anything when he’s running low. He’s stronger than the rest of us but is he strong enough to physically fight against magic?

“I’m not the Chosen One,” Simon glares at him but Baz ignores it. 

Our prison is a rather nice one. We've got a view of the entire city from up here and then some, I can see the gate that we came through and the yellow brick road. There are only four bedrooms and four bathrooms, but Simon offers to sleep on the sofa - which ends up being a pull-out. 

We find a deck of cards in a random drawer and play games for a little bit before we get bored. After the first night I’m ready to go home. I’m on vacation, and I didn’t get to spend as much time as I wanted to with my parents or my old Normal friends or at Club or with my horse. 

The fairies bring us food and tea but we don’t accept it. I wish I had a cigarette, if for nothing else than for something to do with myself.

No one’s tried to touch the blasted sword, which is ridiculous. It’s what we came here for. I think Shepard and Penny have been spending their time locked up in a room talking - I highly doubt there was anything else going on behind closed doors between them, they’re not the type. 

Simon and Baz watch each other when the other isn’t looking. And I’m slowly losing my damn mind. 

  
  
  


**BAZ**

We’ve been locked in this penthouse for three days now. In order for the other’s to eat for longer, I’ve stopped. I don’t need human food as often as they do.Nothing has worked to get us out. I suppose I could attempt to open the door with brute force (Simon has), but I don’t have the strength. I’m starving. 

We’ve been here for three days. I haven’t had to push the limits of how often I need to feed since my days at Watford. 

I’ve kept myself locked in what I’ve claimed as my room to prevent myself from losing it and snapping at someone. The other’s are beginning to smell too good. Agatha smells of cinnamon buns and almond extract. Shepard smells of fruits - oranges, grapefruit, citrus. Penelope smells like kitchen herbs and spices. Then there’s bloody Simon with his apples and buttery popcorn scent.

The ache in my jaw hasn’t started yet. But within the next day, it will. And within the next day or so the provisions that I had packed will run dry so everyone will be hungry. 

I’m lying on the overly plush bed in my room, tugging at my hair and trying to think of anything other than the sound of the other’s heartbeats in the various other rooms. They all smell delightful. We’ve been here a few days and we’ve yet to need to bathe or use the restroom, but we have had to eat and sleep. The magic here is strange. 

There’s a sharp knock on my door that I’m ignoring because it’s Simon on the other side. 

“Baz, I’m coming in,” he tells me. Of course, he’s coming in without my telling him to. He’s just like fucking Mordelia. 

He’s got a bottle of water and a granola bar in his hands. He’s got warm blood singing in his veins. I’m not starved to bloodlust yet, but the sight of him makes my skull tingle and my mouth flood with saliva. 

“Here,” he offers the snacks to me and then places it down on the nightstand when he realizes I’m not reaching for it. “Are you thirsty?”

He doesn’t mean for the water. 

“What do you think?” I refuse to look at him. “I’m imagining this is the Queen's plan. Starve me out until I decide to drain you all. And then I’ll eventually wither and die.”

“How bad is it?” Simon is closing and locking the door behind him. I narrow my eyes at him as he sits at the edge of the bed and tugs on his shirt collar. He’s so fucking transparent. 

“I’m not drinking from you,” I say sharply.

“We’ve already learned that you can’t turn someone by biting them and taking a small amount from them.” Simon juts his chin out. “I’m offering this to you before you lose your fucking mind and we have to slay you.”

I flinch. He’s right, we have a vampire slayer in our fucking group - although Agatha hates being called that and swears that she’s not. “I’m not hungry enough.”

“Better for me then,” Simon is taking his fucking shirt off.

“Why are you getting naked?” I mean for my voice to come out harsh but it’s a weak mumble. I’m too weak for this. 

“I don’t want the blood to accidentally stain my shirt,” he says. As if it’s that simple! 

“I’m not doing this,” I repeat. 

Simon frowns and leans forward. He has abs and pecs, and everything is golden and covered in freckles and moles. I want to lick every inch of him. “I can understand and appreciate your moral dilemma,” he wets his lips and his tongue distracts me, “but it’s either drink a little from me, a willing participant, or go crazy and try to kill everyone. Your call.”

“I wouldn’t try to kill everyone,” I roll my eyes, “I’d kill myself first.”

“Not better, Baz.”

What I hate is that he’s not wrong. We’ve no clue when this supposed ball is going to happen and we have no way of breaking out. I caught Agatha the other day trying to spell the glass wall that overlooks the city open. She couldn’t do it. She and Penelope are trying to develop a plan, and I’ve been useless because hunger is making cognitive thought difficult. I’ve never bitten a human, it’s not to say that I’ve never thought about it, but I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t. But it’s a desperate time and I don’t think I have much of an option.

I have to look away from him otherwise I’d lose myself. I haven’t fed in nearly three days. “Okay. You win.”


	9. Chapter 9

**SIMON**

I know that I came up with this utterly stupid idea,(it’s so stupid, he could kill me if he loses control) but I’m nervous. (Penny would be pissed if she found out about this). Baz is eyeing me as if he wants to eat me. Which he probably does, especially since I permitted him. Still, I’m shirtless and I know for a fact that my heart is probably going a mile a minute and my hands are trembling. 

“Uh,” I start and I can feel the heat creeping up to my ears and down to my chest. I blush too easily, and I can feel my neck reddening too. I wonder if that’s enticing to Baz. We weren’t together long enough for me to learn his kinks. ( I was too messed up for much else than handholding and the occasional snog. And even then, toward the end, I couldn’t do those things.) “Should I lie down or something?”

Baz’s eyes are darkening, becoming hooded, and I feel trapped. Our eyes are locked on each other and Baz runs a hand through his hair casually, moving some of the waving strands back before they fall into place. Bloody fucking hell. 

“Relax,” He says, and I instantly feel calmer. Oh, I’m under his thrall. I’m allowing myself to be under his thrall, too enraptured to truly fight it. (I don’t want to fight it.) “Come here.”

I stand from where I’m seated on the bed and make my way to where he is on the other side. I stay standing, too dazed to not. 

Baz is standing up. He’s taken off his Watford Football hoodie and is in a dark purple t-shirt. The color suits him. Everything suits him. He’s pressing his long fingers along my shoulders and collarbone, the feel of them makes me shiver. I swallow and he follows the movement of my Adam’s apple with his eyes. 

“You smell divine,” Baz states while leaning down and nuzzling at my throat. 

I can’t help but lean my neck back to give him better access. I’m feeling as if I’m being seduced and I can’t stop the whimper that crawls its way up my throat and out into the air between us. 

His teeth graze my Adam’s apple and then he’s licking at my throat. Lips moving over the skin. He kisses the mole that’s just under my ear near the hinge of my jaw and I have to squeeze my eyes tight. No one’s done that other than him. There’s never been anyone else. I swallow again and Baz is kissing the rest of my moles. I’m pretty sure this isn’t what he usually does when he goes hunting, this is just something for me. 

His hands are sliding down my bare back and I shiver. Gooseflesh breaks out along my arms and down my stomach. The cloth of his t-shirt is soft against my skin. I can’t help but reach for him too, my hands are on his waist, my fingers slowly crawling up his shirt to rub at his belly. 

“Simon,” Baz’s whisper is so low that I wouldn’t have heard it if he weren’t as close as he was. “I’m going to bite you now.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Do it.”

**BAZ**

Simon moans loudly as I sink my fangs into him at the juncture where his shoulder and neck meet. It’s meatier there, his knees are buckling but I’ve got a fast hold on him. I want to shush him and remind him that others can probably hear him. I don’t pull my teeth out.

“Oh fuck,” Simon gasps. 

I can’t pay attention to any of the noises he makes because his blood is rushing into my mouth. It’s the most delicious of nectars, it’s nirvana, it’s rich and buttery and indulgent. It’s the best blood that I have ever tasted since I’ve been Turned and I can’t help but groan against his throat as I drink from him deeply. 

Is this what I’ve been missing when I’ve turned down feeding on humans? I had a theory that they tasted fucking good, but I hadn’t the faintest idea. Until now. 

Simon tastes like all the good things I’ve ever experienced in my life. And more. So much more. I can taste the rush of serotonin that hits him due to my venom and I want to giggle at it. It makes me happy too. I can taste his arousal and pleasure. I want to do this with him all the time, I want to bite him whenever I want to, however long I need to, whenever I’m hungry for him. 

I’ll always be hungry for him. 

Our hips are rocking together, a slow, rhythmic motion. I can feel him hard against my thigh while I rut into his hip. Simon’s hands are in my hair, fingers tugging at my scalp. Not stopping me, but grasping. Holding on. I slide my thigh between his legs and press it upwards without thinking.

He’s so warm under my hands. Not as hot as he used to be, but still so very much alive. I run the tips of my fingers down his back just to feel the soft firmness of his skin. I trace his moles and follow them back down to the dip of his back. Pressing my hands firmly just above his ass. Simon mewls. 

I wonder if I could ever go back to animal blood after this. I wonder if other humans taste like this. (I won’t bother finding that out, I’ll never drink from anyone else.)

“Oh God,” Simon is repeating. It’s a mantra he hasn’t stopped since I’ve started. He’s saying it softly but I can hear him perfectly. “Baz, God.”

I stop as soon as I’ve had my fill. That’s different, human blood is more filling. It’s fattier than animal blood. It didn’t take much for my hunger to be sated, and it’s shocking to find out. I lick at my bite mark, but the holes where my fangs were are already closing up. As if he were never bitten.

I kiss the area and then press my forehead against his jaw and just breathe. I feel better, so much better. I feel invincible. My senses are sharper than they had been before, and it’s as if a new world has opened up for me, I hadn’t realized how dulled everything had been before. 

When I pull away from him to get a good look at his face, the blue of Simon’s eyes are just a thin ring around black. 

“Are you okay?” My voice is rough. As if I’ve been screaming the entire time I fed instead of gulping down the best-tasting thing I’ve never had. I stand up all the way and mourn when Simon’s hands drop from my scalp. My hair is probably fucked, with the way he was tugging on it. 

“I,” Simon starts and then shakes his head and starts again, “are you?”

Of course, he’s asking me if I’m alright. He’s Simon Snow, the hero of the story, the one who’s so pure that Penny was able to cast an angel spell on him. So pure that we’re sure he can wield a sword that’s meant to slay demons. He’s just and all things morally right and he’s too good for me. He’s always been too good for me but I loved him all the same. I still love him. 

“Don’t be a numpty,” I sigh. 

I can’t be soft with him, not after that, not after everything. He broke my heart three years ago, it’s something that I like to remind myself sometimes. When my thoughts start to revolve around him and I want to reach out to him. It’s easy enough, to reach out to him. Hell, my hands are still on him, my palms resting on his skin. He’s showing me so much skin, more than I’ve seen in years. Not since we were in school together. 

He’s jutting his chin out at me, “you can at least be nice to me.”

“I’m always nice to you,” I say. 

We’re flirting. It’s such an easy thing to do with him. I hate myself for allowing myself to be pulled in to his magnetism. I revolve around him, always have, and I just can’t bring myself to stop. Rationally, I know it’s because Simon is it for me. He’s my one and only, and there’s no way to change that. (I don’t think that I’d ever want to change that.) 

His broad hands are on my shoulders, he’s looping a piece of my hair in his fingers absentmindedly. We haven’t taken our eyes off of each other, but that’s not new. He and I have always watched each other, always with bated breath. 

I can feel that he’s still hard against my thigh, and I’m still pressed against his. Simon and I have only ever had sex once. It had been good, it had been everything I had wanted, and I thought he wanted it too. He said that he did, and then he went off. It wasn’t until it was behind me, by a year or two, that I understood what he had stumbled and stuttered at saying. I don’t think it was that he didn’t want me, it was that he wanted me so much that he couldn’t handle it when he finally got me. And then there was the fact that Simon was feeling so much self-doubt at the time (I wasn’t aware of it until he said his little break-up speech), my confidence probably overwhelmed him. 

I’m not pushing him now.

“Baz,” Simon’s eyes are taking in my entire face. 

“Simon,” I say back.

I’m unsurprised when he kisses me.

  
  


**SIMON**

I wish we could be like this again. Forever. I want to be with Baz forever. Is that weird? I’m only twenty-three (almost twenty-four) but I’m sure about how I feel. Does he want me too? He’s kissing me back, his mouth has the faint taste of copper (my blood) and what I imagine to be vampire venom (it tastes good). I don’t mind the strange mix of it with just the taste of him, of Baz. 

Our tongues touch and I gasp. I haven’t been kissed like this since that night in the back of Shepard’s pickup truck. Under the stars. I wish there were stars here. If nothing else, Baz and I would always have the stars. 

The feel of his lips against mine makes me pour all that I have into this. I have so many things that I want to say to Baz, so many things that I just can’t find the words for. How do you tell someone that you love them? Like truly love them? Words just aren’t enough.  _ I still love you _ .

We pull apart and I start on his jaw and throat, pulling at the skin and enjoying how it pinkens before going back to normal. It’s my blood causing that to happen. I shouldn’t find that as hot as I do. 

“Simon,” Baz sighs, “stop.”

I pull away immediately and peer up at him. He’s so beautiful. I could spend the rest of my life looking at him. “Yeah?”

“What are we doing?” Baz asks. 

It seems to take him all of his strength to remove his hands from my body, and even though he’s cooler than I am, my body misses him. I pull my hands away from him too, even though I don’t want to. I want to keep kissing him. I want to make up for the few years that we had apart. I want so much.

“Um,” I shrug. “Snogging?”

“Crowley,” Baz is smoothing his hair down and his face is flushed. I’ve never seen him this way before, even his ears are pink. It’s really cute. “Please put your shirt back on. I can’t focus right now.”

I let out a small huff of laughter but do as he asks. The last thing I’d ever want to do is make Baz uncomfortable in any way. It’s when I lift my shirt above my head that I notice how dizzy I am. The blood loss wasn’t a lot, I don’t think it was more than what they take out when you donate, but maybe it’s the venom making me feel this way.

“Whoa,” I say as I stagger and plop down onto the bed. “Head rush.”

In the blink of an eye, Baz is there. 

“Vampire speed,” I blink hard. “Are you going to eat that granola bar that I brought for you?”

“No, and it looks like you’ll need it more. Your sugar has dropped.” He tells me while opening the snack for me. “Stay seated for a moment.”

I nod and take a bite, it’s sour cherry flavored and I kind of love it. “So, this may be stupid, and probably poorly timed, but we’ve been through a lot these last few days -”

“Understatement.”

I nod again and gather my courage. I can do this! I slew a dragon when I was eleven (it was an accident). I’ve fought goblins since I was fifteen. I defeated the Humdrum! I can say these thoughts out loud. My therapist would be proud of me. I’ve had this speech planned for years, safely tucked away in my mind. 

So I open my mouth and say it. “Yeah, and I just feel like I should tell you. I’ve never stopped being in love with you.”

**BAZ**

“What?” I whisper it, disbelief flooding me. “You, what?” 

Simon is looking at me fiercely, his jaw is set and he’s almost looking at me as if he’s daring me to argue with him. “I’m still in love with you. I never stopped.”

It’s been three years! I want to shout it at him. I want to push him. I want to kiss him again. Kissing him had been like drinking water after being in a desert. It was like finding somewhere cool to sit during the hottest summer day. It was his blood, but better. 

“You don’t even know me anymore,” I say instead. Deflection at it’s best. Does the imprinting work both ways? If I can only ever have Simon, does that mean he can only ever have me? Does this mean that vampires are the only creatures with true soulmates? Is that what that is? Are we soulmates? Does this mean that I have a soul?

My mind is reeling. Focus, Basilton. One thing at a time. 

He rolls his eyes at me. “Don’t give me that bullshit, I know you, Baz.”

“But,” I’m grasping for straws. “You broke up with me. I loved you, and you broke my heart, Simon.”

“I know,” Simon finally breaks eye contact, “I know. I’m sorry, but I had to. Not break your heart, I never wanted to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. But I wasn’t in a good place, please believe me.”

“I do.”

“I - I’m not thinking that you should still love me. Not when you have um, when you uh, you have someone back in France that you can always go back to and who treats you well. I know that you like him. I’m - I’m not trying to - to insert myself back into how things were or could have been. I’m not that stupid.” Simon shrugs and gives me a self-deprecating smile that I want to immediately clear off of his face. “It’s just, um, we’re going to be facing off against Abbadon. Once we get out of here. We’re always stuck fighting against these powerful bad guys that we have no chance of defeating, we have too many near-death experiences, and I didn’t want to leave here without you knowing. I love you. So -”

“Please shut up.” I rubbed my temples and watch him pout at me but take another bite of his granola bar. “This is a lot for me to take in.”

“Yeah.”

Simon still loves me. Simon always loved me. Simon broke things off because he was in a bad spot - which is true, he was. He may still be a little, he’ll never fully heal. I don’t think that’s possible. But he’s better. He wanted me to know he was better when we were in Mummers House. He wanted to see how I was doing and that’s why he watched me from afar for so many years. 

Simon still loves me. 

“I still love you too,” I admit. I don’t tell him that it’s because I’m incapable of being in love with anyone else. That’s unimportant. It’s because he’s him, it’s because he’s Simon and I’ll never meet anyone else like him. 

“Yeah?” The smile that breaks out on Simon’s face is pure radiance. I lean over and kiss him, without asking or thinking that I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have done that without his permission, but he kisses me back just as enthusiastically. 

When we pull away again we’re both smiling at each other like a pair of morons. Perhaps we are that - morons. 

“What does this mean for us?” Simon asks. 

“Maybe, when everything’s done,” I start, “I’d like to take you out to dinner. If that's okay?”

“I’d love that.” Simon nods. 

I nod back and then stand, “alright, well, gather the troops. We’re going to escape this place. Tonight.”


	10. Chapter 10

**PENNY**

Simon nearly frog marched his way to the dining area table and opens the box with the sword. Without a second thought, he picks it up and holds it before him for a moment, testing the weight and balance of it. I watch as he twirls the hilt in his hand, causing the sword to fan out before him.

“I wish it would be something easier to carry. You know, like how the Sword of Mages disappeared?” The moment the words are out of Simon’s mouth it glows brightly in his hand. And in the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

“What did you do?” I demand. 

Instead, on Simon’s pointer finger, is a platinum looking band. A simple ring that wouldn’t look inconspicuous. 

“Whoa,” Simon stares down at his hand, and then, without more than a flick of his wrists, the sword reappears. “Neat! Do you think I can do magic with this? Like I did with the Sword of Mages?”

“I don’t know,” I say slowly while watching it shift back into a ring on his hand. Fascinating. 

Simon thins his lips for a moment, in thought, before he points his finger toward the opposite wall, away from us. “ **Chill Out** .”

It shouldn’t have surprised me when the ice began to creep up the wallpaper. 

“That’s useful,” he says, but it’s more to himself. 

He’s gotten better with magic this second time around, although I think it’s because it’s so weak. He's so used to being a nuclear reactor that whatever magic he has must be easier to manage. It also has to mean something about his heritage, I’m starting to believe that his parents were mages. There's just no other way for Simon to have the abilities that he does. Humdrum or not.

Simon stands up straight and grins at me. “We’re breaking out of here.”

  
  


**AGATHA**

“And what are we going to do when the fairies try to stop us? Burn them alive? That seems unnecessarily cruel,” I sigh. I’m ready to leave this place, but it hasn’t been the worst hostage situation that I’ve been in. 

“Isn’t the lore that if you drop salt or sugar in front of a fairy they have to stop and count it?” Shepard asks. “Is that true? Cause then you guys can just use a salt spell, right?”

“I don’t know any,” I tell him. It’s the truth, a salt spell? Who would come up with that?

“Pass the salt is a common phrase,” Penny says earnestly. 

“They may not use it here though,” Baz points out. “Remember what happened in America?”

“We can still try!” Penny has her ring out before her, it’s large purple gem glinting in the mid-day light. 

I know that Penny is powerful (probably extra now in the fairy realm), she’s made spells up as she goes, but I’ve never personally gotten the chance to ever see her create one. Especially when it’s on the spot. 

“ **Pass The Salt** !” Her voice is clear, confident. 

I unknowingly hold my breath. It may not work, I don't expect it to. Until a stream of white dust shoots out of her ring and onto the ground before her. 

“Brilliant!” Simon is grinning before pointing his finger in the same direction. “ **Pass The Salt** .” His stream has more of a punch to it, and he’s pushed back. His trainers squeak across the tiled flooring. 

I take my wand from where it’s been holding my hair up. “ **Pass The Salt** .” Not as strong as Simon, but not bad. “So we’re just going to throw salt at them?”

“Gives a fun spin to the term ‘stop being so salty’,” Shepard chuckles at his joke. Simon snickers as well and it reminds me how awful both of their sense of humor are. 

“Are you going to give it a shot, Basil?” Penny asks Baz. 

He’s stretching his arms and back, bending and seeming to loosen his muscles. Like he used to do before every football match back in school. “I’m the best magician in this group, I don’t need to.” He says as he pops his shoulder. 

I wrinkle my nose at him, but I don’t disagree. He’s practically perfect in every bloody way, he’d give Mary Poppins a run for her money, that’s for sure.

Shepard is shifting his pack on his back, ready to run if need be. He’s the only Normal, so he’s the only one that wouldn’t be able to defend himself. “Everyone ready?”

We’re all in agreement. And then Baz rips the door off its hinges. 

  
  


**SHEPARD**

I know that Baz is a vampire. I know this entails certain traits. The thing is, he tries so hard to be like a normal human that it’s easy to forget. Baz is a mage first and a vampire last. So when he decided to tear the magicked door open it was a shock.

“Crowley!” Agatha gapes from beside him. 

“That’s so hot,” Simon mumbles. I don’t think he meant to say that out loud. When I glance over at him, his face is blotchy with a blush. He shrugs at me and I shake my head but can’t help my snort of amusement.

The fairies that were guarding our door begin to screech. Fairies have such high pitch voices. Like, if a toddler were to swallow helium and talk. It’s harsh on the ears. I take that back - this  _ entire place _ is harsh on  _ all  _ of the senses. 

“ **Pass The Salt** ,” Baz’s voice is clear and suddenly all of the fairies within the hallway drop to their knees and began to scoop up the salt, grain by grain. “Smashing.” He says it blandly, but I can tell he’s pleased that it works. 

“Elevator!” I point out down the hall. This is going to be way too easy and I kind of wished that we did this after the first day.

  
  


**BAZ**

Mages used to eat fairies, it’s mentioned in one of the many forbidden books in my family’s ancient library. I’ve been thinking about that the entire time we’ve been here. Of snatching their damn Queen up and cooking her just the way it’s suggested. They’re supposed to boost a person’s magical ability (they’re also supposed to be an aphrodisiac). 

We run into her as we reach the ground floor. She’s surrounded by a court. Her magic is strong, I’ll give her that. I spy her before the others do. 

“Pretty abomination,” Her voice carries over all of the ensuing chaos that’s broken out around us. Salt is everywhere and fairies are dropping quickly once they see it. “If you stay with me, I can heal you of your ailment.”

My ailment? She means my vampirism. I’m about to open my mouth to respond. To tell her that her allure doesn’t work on me and that I’m very gay and very in love and I don’t care for her lies. I don’t know why these words are threatening to fall out of my mouth. It’s probably her magic.

“Fuck off!” Simon points at her, “ **Pass The Salt** !”

Typically I don’t need Simon to think he has to rescue me, I never have. As for my ‘ailment’, I’ve my theories about my vampirism, and I don’t need some stupid fairy to tell me half-truths about it. She’s watching me with her large dark eyes as she reluctantly goes onto her knees with the rest of her subjects. 

  
  
  


**PENNY**

“Yellow brick road!” Shepard points out. “Why do they even have a yellow brick road? It’s not even from the right story! You can’t have both a yellow brick road  _ and  _ a Queen of Hearts.”

He’s right, it really doesn’t make much sense. 

We’re almost at the edge of the city and we haven’t stopped running. Honestly, you’d think I’d have more stamina than I do with how often I’m in situations like this. Instead, I’m barely keeping up, which is fine since I’m smart and can think on my feet if need be.

We’ve been throwing handfuls of salt in every direction without running dry due to how this place impacts our magic. I feel a little guilty because it’s going to take them forever to count it all. Still, it’s better than the alternative of us staying here and dying due to starvation. Or due to eating their actual food. It’s better than Agatha’s original plan of just lighting everything on fire. 

‘No fairies were hurt in the making of this film’ I think, a little delirious at the idea of freedom. 

Baz is leading the pack. His strides are long and elegant. The rest of us are just a little behind him - I have a feeling that he could run faster, and that he’s slowing himself down for us. It’s not like he can leave without a true love's kiss anyway. 

I’m panting by the time we get to the gate. Not all of the fairies were preoccupied picking up salt, some of them weren’t anywhere near us, and it’s only a matter of time before their army or whatever is sent after us. I’m about to turn to Shepard when I see Simon practically throw himself onto Baz. Legs wrapped around Baz’s waist, arms around Baz’s neck (he’s managed to maintain his balance - thankfully), and then they’re kissing. 

The gate opens and we’re all shoving at each other to get out of this hellscape before we begin trying to push the door back shut from our side. As soon as that’s done, the third gate disappears. Good riddance. 

  
  


**SIMON**

We wait until we’re out of the Wavering Wood to sag in relief. The football pitches stadium is a welcomed sight. 

“Why do we always cause chaos wherever we go?” Agatha flops down beside Penny at the bottom of the stands. “Merlin and Morgana.”

“I have to call my job,” Baz says, running a hand through his hair as he takes his phone out of his pocket. That’s another thing, our phones haven’t died despite them being on for days straight. Hell, I even used mine to play games and the battery life didn’t deplete at all. 

Baz frowns down at it, “is it a glitch, or does everyone else’s phone say that it’s still Saturday?”

It isn’t a glitch. It is still Saturday. The day that we initially left at that. No time has passed at all in the human realm. 

“That’s trippy,” Shepard says while cleaning off his glasses. “That’s a good thing we didn’t waste as much time as we had worried. It also explains why we didn’t need to bathe or use the toilet.”

It’s probably why I didn’t feel the need for my medication. I didn’t want to bring it to anyone’s attention while we were in the fairy realm, but I was worried that without my medication that I’d slip into a depressive episode. I’d have been useless then. 

“But we needed to sleep,” Penny pointed out. 

“I didn't,” Shepard says, “maybe it was the magic there reacting to your guys’ magic? And my curse?”

“Whatever,” Agatha sighs tiredly. “I don’t care, I’m just happy to be back. Now, if you don't mind, I’d like to leave Watford. Maybe go into the village to grab a pint and then go back to London. I’m done, I only have a week of vacation left and I need to spend some time with my parents.”

_ Vacation  _ \- like she’s an American. I kind of like that she uses their words for some things. Though I know Penny hates it.

We’re walking to Mummers House when Baz stops near the White Chapel, “I’m going to visit my mother. I’ll see you all later.”

We wave to him, but as we enter the dorms I pause on the stairs up to the tower. 

“I think I’ll wait for him to get back,” I say to the others. 

“Alright,” Penny smiles at me, “just let me know when you’re back in London.”

“Yeah,” I nod before walking up to my room.

I can’t help but wonder what we’re going to do now. We have a holy sword named Crystal Violin (what kind of stupid name is that?) that only I can bloody wield. We have a way to defeat the damn last white hare - Abbadon. I have another week and a half of paid leave off of work. 

My mind is whirling and I have to lie down on our beds and try to breathe. I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to start. So I make a mental list -

  * What are we going to do? 
  * Does Penny have a plan? 
  * How are we going to summon this demon and slay it? 
  * Will it even release Shepard of his curse? 
  * WIll the fairies try to plot their revenge against us? 

I stare down at the ring on my finger. My thumb gently traces over it where it rests just above my last knuckle. It’s warm, and comfortable, almost like it’s always belonged right where it is. I feel more powerful with it than I was feeling before. The dead spots are closing and my magic has been gradually coming back. I wonder how I’ll be once they’re all closed.

  * Will I be as strong as Pen or Baz?
  * Can I still give Baz my magic?
  * Are we going to be able to live a normal life after we kill Abbadon?

I curl into a ball, facing the door. My hands are held close to my chest and I allow my eyes to close. The room smells of cedar and bergamot and the faint scent of the moat through the open window.

  
  


**BAZ**

Rats will never be filling again. Nothing will be as satisfying as Simon’s blood. I speak to my mother, but I mostly wonder what she’d think of me now. It’s one thing for me to be a vampire that only drank game animals, it’s another for me to drink from humans. Would it have mattered to her that I did it to save my life? Would the circumstances matter to her? I’m not even sure anymore. I only know my mother through stories, but even the stories are worn around the edges, and everyone remembers her through a haze. The way most people remember the dead - fondly. 

I can hear when Penelope's beat-up hatchback putters out of the staff car park as I make my way to Mummers House to get my bag. I suppose this means we’re going to summon and fight a demon next weekend. Paris was nothing like this, there is never a dull moment when Penny is around. It’s like she ensures that. 

The window at the top of the tower is open and I frown. Leave it to Snow to forget to close a window. Although I don’t think any students share this room anymore, so an open window probably doesn't matter. I don’t think the room has been touched since the night of my Leavers Ball. 

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I half expect it to be a warning for low battery, instead, it’s a text from Fiona. I didn’t even know she knew how to text. 

Fiona [15:43]: Bad news boyo. NowNext is officially in London.

Baz [15:43]: Fantastic.

Looks like Wellbelove’s holiday will be extended. Looks like I’ll be dragged into a vampire war, against my wishes. I don’t want anything to do with the NowNext. Let me just help kill a demon and be done with it. 

I open the door to the room and pause. Simon is fast asleep, on his side of the bed. His stuff is neatly packed away, and it looks like he packed mine as well. My heart warms at the sight of him. 

Simon Snow is in love with me and has been for a long time. It's hard to believe. It's almost too good to be true.

I crawl onto the mattress and face him, our knees are touching. The holy ring on his finger shines brightly, but it doesn’t bother me. That was something that I took notice of immediately, for a sword allegedly forged by angels, it does nothing to me. I haven’t tried to touch it, but I don’t feel sick around it at all. If anything, I feel good. 

It’s early still, I suppose I can afford a nap before we drive back home. To London. Together.

I reach over and place my hand over one of his. I watch Simon breathe for a few minutes, and then I close my eyes. 


	11. Chapter 11

**BAZ**

It’s been a little over two weeks since we’ve left the fairy realm, and life has a way of carrying on nicely when one allows it. I’ve learned that dating Simon Snow the second time is different from when we were first together. I think it’s the circumstances. He kissed me in the middle of a burning forest to save me from myself, then everything that occurred after didn’t make for a healthy relationship.

Now, we’ve gone on dates. Two so far. The first was a traditional dinner and a movie, I figured we could have fun doing something normal together for once. I took him to the film first and then to a pub, nothing extravagant. I didn’t want him to feel as if I had any expectations of grandeur. I don’t want him to feel as if I could do better than him, because I cannot. 

Simon asked me on the second date and took us to an art museum. Afterward, we went out for a curry. 

We haven’t kissed again (I want to, and I think he does too, but neither of us has acted on that want yet). We’ve held hands, and it felt tentative. As if I were holding butterfly wings in my palms, delicate. He and I text regularly, stupid memes and jokes, along with random thoughts, and we speak on the phone. I’m holding myself back from pushing for more, for wanting things to progress quicker. I don’t want to scare him off. 

The positive about us trying again when we’re older is that we’re both a little more mature than we had been. A little more put together, a little more comfortable with ourselves. Simon still has his bad days, but they’re not as bad as they once were. 

Currently, I’m in bed, it’s a Sunday and I don’t have to work nor do I have anywhere pressing to be. It’s warm where I am, bundled under my blankets with the summer sun shining through. I wish I could turn my mind off, but as I laze about I think about my last conversation with Penelope. 

We’re going to summon a demon around or on the summer solstice. That’s the best time of year to summon a bloody fire demon. 

How does one tell Penelope Bunce that they have better plans than summoning, and slaying, a demon? (And honestly, where does she plan on doing this? It’s not as if her flat has space.)

I don’t have other plans, I just don’t feel comfortable doing this. A vampire facing off a fire demon sounds like a stupid idea. Perhaps I should remind Penny that I’m flammable. Also, there’s nothing like putting Simon’s life in danger right before his birthday. I understand why she’s doing it, for Shepard. Who - if I’m honest - doesn’t deserve to be cursed. 

I close my eyes. Maybe I can sleep again, I’m comfortable enough. 

My phone buzzes on my nightstand where it’s been since l left it to charge after speaking with Simon last night before he went to work. It’s probably Fiona. She’s been back in London since the NowNext decided to send some of their members to attempt to recruit the vampires. My feelings about that are admittedly mixed, I don’t believe that magic can be created, I also think that magic ages a vampire. That it works against the virus somehow. If not, then how else would that explain my aging over the last twenty years? Or Nicodemus aging?

I don’t disagree with the vampires having a community. Having a place where they can exist in peace. Like Las Vegas, like certain areas of Paris. As long as they’re not murdering innocent people then what do I care? Only, the NowNext are attempting to recruit and Turn powerful Normals and that’s something I cannot get behind. 

My phone buzzes again and I groan dramatically as I roll over to check it.

Simon [13:50]: Want lunch?

Simon [13:55]: I’m in your building.

Simon [13:58]: I’m about to open your door.

The front door opens and I can hear him shuffling in. He’s still got a heavy foot, he stomps about and smells like my favorite snack. I can hear his heartbeat and can imagine his warmth from inside my nest of sheets. 

“Baz?” Simon calls out and I close my eyes, relishing in the sound of it. He’s brought food with him, I can smell the spices and know that it’s curry. 

“In here,” I respond while barely raising my voice.

“It’s nearly two in the afternoon,” he says from my bedroom door. 

I want to turn to face him but refuse. Let him come to me. 

“Yes,” I agree. I had gotten up earlier to use the toilet, brushed my teeth, and ate (and fed). 

He’s shuffling closer to me.

I wait until he’s just within my reach before I pounce. I grab him by the wrist and drag him under my blankets with me. 

“Baz!” Simon laughs. “It's bloody hot in here!”

“Hush,” I press my cool fingers to his neck and am satisfied by his surprised yelp. He’s so warm, not as hot as he used to be, but warmer than average. I want to touch every inch of him. 

“You’re such an ass,” but there’s no bite to his words. Instead, Simon takes my cold hands into his and rubs at my fingers until they’re warmer. 

I’m watching him, enjoying his scent and his body heat and just  _ him _ , just Simon. His blue eyes peered at me through his lashes and notice me staring at him. He’s placed my hand on his chest now, his palm heavy on my fingers. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks me. His heart rate has increased. He’s nervous and I can’t help but find it endearing. 

“No,” I answer, and I can’t stop the grin that makes its way across my face. “You don’t have to ask.”

“You’re such a prat.” Simon scoffs at me, but leans forward and presses his mouth to mine. He tastes like happiness and laughter. His fingers lace through mine and he sighs into me. 

Simon Snow, I could spend an eternity with you like this. 

  
  
  
  


**SIMON**

We’ve already eaten lunch, and now I’m sitting on his lap, kissing him until neither of us can breathe. Until our mouths become sore and then kissing some more. Feeling his tongue against mine, and his fingers crawling up the back of my shirt, and his hair in my hands, it’s everything I’ve been wanting for years. I’ve always enjoyed Baz underneath me, right where I know he’ll be safe. 

We’re sitting on Baz’s sofa. He’s still in his pajamas and I’m a little blown away by it, for as long as I’ve known him he’s been so put together at all times. I suppose everyone needs an occasional lazy Sunday. 

The joggers leave nothing to the imagination and I can feel his erection against my bum as I grind into him. Will we have sex? Is this leading to sex? Is it too soon for that? Our history together makes things like this blurred, because I’ve known him since we were eleven and we were equally obsessed with each other. Hell, I stalked him for an entire year just because I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing where he was. It’s bad, how possessive I can be. 

One of Baz’s hand comes down and cups my ass, squeezing, and I moan into his mouth. 

I could die like this, very easily. I could let myself drown in Baz and forget all other things in my life. I wouldn’t need food or water or air, just Baz, always. We haven’t properly kissed in so long that now that we’ve started again I never want to stop. 

My shirt is being hitched up and I lift my arms and break away from him for only a moment as it’s tossed to the floor. 

We’ve only been on two dates. I can’t decide if I want to slow it down or if I want him naked underneath me. We’ve only had sex together once, and it was amazing, so amazing. 

Baz’s mouth is on my throat now and I’m tilting my head back, allowing him room to work. He’s licking and nibbling and sucking and I can only breathe. I hold onto his shoulders and rock down on him and can’t help panting. He’s done this before, he’s too confident to not have done this, but I don’t want to think about that. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. What he did when we were apart is none of my business. It doesn’t stop the jealousy in the pit of my stomach, the thought of someone else touching Baz or Baz doing what he’s doing to me to someone else - it makes me want to go off. 

His fingers are tracing my back and shoulder blades, gentle over the scars from where my wings and tail once were. (I miss them sometimes.) Then he’s following his fingers to my collarbone and pecs.

Baz kisses me as if I’m a prize that he’s earned. As if he’d never get the chance to kiss me again as if this would be the only time he could do it. I hope it’s not, I don’t know if I can survive another three years without him. I mean, I could, but I wouldn’t want to. I have missed him as much as I missed my magic. 

“You’re so fit,” Baz murmurs against my jawline, dragging his teeth, and I huff a small laugh as I shiver. 

“You’re one to talk,” I manage to whimper as he attacks the spot just under my ear, near the hinge of my jaw. It makes my knees want to pinch, and they do, around his hips. “Fuck.”

He hums and does it again and my fingers tightened their grip on his arms. 

When was the last time we did this? Kiss as if it’s what we were made for? I can’t remember, but I do remember that it was good. It's always so good, everything about him is just good.

I manage to get his shirt off as well and now our skin is touching. He’s room temperature, but it’s a relief against me. I’m overly hot, and I’m starting to feel a little light-headed. I gasp against his mouth and he ruts up into me. Crowley. It’s overwhelming. 

Suddenly I’m being flipped, my back on the couch cushions. That should not be as hot as it is, but it’s so hot.

Baz is over me, his hair spilling over his shoulders and towards me and I reach up to move it away from my face as I leaned up to kiss him again. My mouth is starting to tender, but I don’t want to stop. 

  
  


**BAZ**

My shirt is on the floor with Simon’s, and he’s underneath me, writhing against me with his legs folded up so that they wrap around my waist. Merlin and fucking Morgana. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt Simon against me, his skin his hot and the smell of his arousal is causing me to become light-headed. 

I pull away from him and tug at his jeans and then, suddenly, he’s in nothing more than his red pants, dragging me back down to him. I hadn’t planned for us to become undressed, kissing was perfectly fine. I’m not complaining, but if we were to move forward - like I’m imagining (hoping) we are, then we’ll have to move to the bedroom. I suppose I could use magic and summon whatever we’ll need for whatever we’ll do. I’m not going to push, I’m happy taking whatever Simon is willing to give. If it’s just us grinding until we get off, so be it, I’m fucking thrilled. 

His hands are cupping me through my joggers, I’ve nothing on underneath them. The drag of the fabric against my sensitive skin causes me to gasp, and I can feel Simon smile. 

His fingers are slowly beginning to slip underneath the band of my bottoms. I’m trying to focus on breathing as he pet’s at the beginning of my treasure trail and then further down. Crowley, his hand is so warm. He’s gently, loosely, stroking me and he's making a wide, slow, motion on the tip of my head with his thumb. His wrist-twisting just so. 

I moan.

Simon is pulling me down to him, breaking away from my mouth and nipping at my collar and neck.

“Is this okay?” His voice is hoarse and his breath is hot on my throat. 

I nod, “yes.”

“Do you - do you want to -” whatever Simon was going to suggest was cut off by the sound of my front door banging open. 

We both jumped, startled, and stared with wide eyes as my aunt saunters in. 

“Oh Crowley!” Fiona gapes at us for a full minute.

I can only imagine what a sight we are. Both shirtless, Simon in his underwear, my hair a mess, his hand down the front of my joggers. Needless to say, my erection leaves just as quickly as Simon’s hand does. 

Never has there ever been a time where I wish I could light Fiona on fire than I do at this very instant. 

I pull myself up a bit, but Simon’s and my hips are still flushed even though his legs are off of me (I’m fairly certain that he’s calmed down enough for me to move, but I want to make sure before I do). He’s covering his face with both hands, his fierce blush creeping down to his chest. 

“What the fuck, Fiona?” I manage to snarl. I don’t feel particularly menacing underneath my aunt’s amused gaze. If I could blush, I’d probably be as red as the man under me. 

“I called you, boyo,” Fiona has her hands on her hips, “multiple times. Figured you’d be sleeping. Hello Chosen One, you’ve grown up quite a bit.”

She has my mail in one of her hands - there’s no post on Sunday but I haven’t checked it since Friday. Why does she have my mail?

Simon is gently nudging me off of him, I move and watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His face is still cherry red, but he’s gathering his clothes without saying a word to Fiona, fleeing to the bedroom without a backward glance. The sight of his bare back is a little much for me to handle, he’s so attractive. 

“Damn,” Fiona says appreciatively. She’s not wrong, Simon is lovely. But I know she’s only doing it because she enjoys getting under my skin and she enjoys me losing my patience with her. “Chosen One’s been working out.”

“What do you want?” I ask her as I also stand up. I bend to pick up my shirt and slip it over my head easily. She ruined what could have been a very good time. It doesn’t mean that Simon and I won’t have the opportunity to do that again - hopefully, we will. Still! Simon and I haven’t done anything like that in so long, I hadn’t wanted so badly like that in years. 

I run my hands through my hair to move it away from my face, tucking strands behind my ears. 

Fiona shrugs and leads the way to my kitchen. “Believe it or not I happened to be in the area and decided to drop by. I wanted to know if you checked your post lately, which you hadn’t, and thought I’d drop it off before going home. I didn’t expect the show.”

She’s digging through my refrigerator as if she lives here. She pulls out a bottle of sparkling water and takes a long drag from it. 

I pick up my mail from the counter where Fiona had left it. Bills, junk, and what looks to be an invitation. It’s on black papyrus paper and has my name in gold, there’s even a red wax seal on the back. 

“Midsummer Gala,” Fiona explains as I take the wax off and pull the envelope open. 

The Midsummer Gala is an event that takes place every year for high-class mages. In the old days - before Watford and the likes - it was spent in meadows with tree spirits and flowers in people’s hair as they worshiped the sun. Nowadays it’s celebrated during the dusk and all night, with the rich donating to various charities. Most of the money goes back into Watford, to help the future mages with their educations. 

Originally the Midsummer Gala was called by its literal name - Summer Solstice. It represented “the power of light over darkness.” It’s a day when magic is at its most powerful. It also happens to be Simon’s birthday. 

“How is this relevant to me?” I ask my aunt while placing the invitation down. 

Fiona snorts unattractively. “Rumor has it the Next Blood are planning on infiltrating and kidnapping magicians during this event. It’s a smart thing to do, especially since they want magic.”

“Of course,” I roll my eyes. Honestly, it’s as easy as enthralling someone into inviting one vampire in. Something in me shifts at the look my aunt is throwing my way. “What?”

“Are you going?” She asks. Fiona doesn’t ever do things without reason. She wants to know if I’ll be there probably because I’m a vampire as well, and I’ll be able to blend in with the NowNext better than any human could. 

“It’s Snow’s birthday,” I tell her. I don’t mention how there’s a possibility that I’ll be facing down a fire demon that day. No need for unnecessary stress, and it’s not a lie. Simon will be turning twenty-four. I’ve known him for over half of my life now, and I plan on being with him for even longer than that. 

My aunt rolls her eyes and I want to bare my teeth at her. We have a strange dynamic, more like siblings sometimes than an aunt and nephew. I blame it on the fact that she’s still immature despite her age. 

“Ask him if he’d want to join as your date.” She suggests as if she doesn’t have an ulterior motive. “He’s still famous, he defeated the Humdrum, mages will still be tickled pink to see him alive and well.”

Mages would be tickled pink if they find out that he’s regaining his magic. This is something only certain people in the know are aware of. 

Fiona says it with a malicious tilt to her mouth. After all of these years, she still can’t quite grasp that Simon was not The Mage. He was his heir, full stop. That Simon was just as much a child as I was and just as much a pawn in the entire thing. 

“If that’s all you came here for, please leave,” I say. 

Fiona snorts again, amusement back on her features. “Right, of course, I know you’re preoccupied. Tell lover-boy I said bye.”

I flip her the V, which she reciprocates with a laugh as she closes the door behind her. She left her empty water bottle on my counter and I sneer at it as I put it in recycling. 

The invitation catches my eye as I leave the kitchen and I pause to read through it once more. The event is being thrown by Ruth Salisbury. I’m not surprised, Lady Salisbury is a vivacious socialite even though she’s got to be in her mid-seventies by now. I like her, she tells bawdy jokes and tries to force everyone into eating too much cake. She enjoys ruffling feathers and making people uncomfortable. No event is ever dull when Lady Salisbury was present.

Would Simon want to spend his birthdate going to a dance with me? He looks dashing in a suit, so I could hope. Only, it won’t be a dance, it’d be a mission. 

I go into my bedroom where I find Simon on my bed, watching mindless television. Without uttering a single word to him, I join him, and he curls himself around me. Our fingers are linked tightly together.

“I’m sorry about Fiona,” I say to him, though we’re still pretending to watch the football match that’s on. 

“It’s not your fault,” Simon says, his thumb is rubbing circles on my palm. 

He’s being gentle with me, he does this sometimes. Treats me as if I’m the one who would be easily spooked off. (That was an unfair and cruel thought.) I can tell that he wants to say more, maybe about the fact that we almost had sex. Or the fact that my aunt is generally unpleasant on her good days. Maybe I should bring up the invitation. We both stay silent, we’re already not communicating. 

I bring his knuckles to my mouth and brush a soft kiss against them. How long will we last this time around, Simon?


	12. Chapter 12

**SIMON**

I wake up with a start, my body overheated and I’m feeling dizzy, I practically fall out of bed and land in a heap on the floor. I tug my shirt up and off of me, and then wiggle out of my track shorts so that I’m in my pants. It’s so bloody hot in here. My back aches from where my wings once were and I can almost feel my tail wrapping itself around my thigh. Phantom limb syndrome. 

It’s early evening and I don’t know where I am, it takes several minutes to realize that I’m in Baz’s bedroom. It’s Sunday. We both dozed off while watching a football match.

“Snow?” Baz’s voice is blurry and thick from sleep and it sounds lovely. I wish I could focus on it. Instead, I’m stumbling into his en suite to dunk my head in the tub, under a stream of cold water. 

It’s not a fever, I just feel like. Well. I feel like I might go off. I can taste cinnamon sweet smoke filling my mouth. What the fuck is going on?

“Simon?” Baz’s voice is laced with worry. This is not how I wanted to spend my day with him, I wanted to do something a bit more carnal and a bit less literal magic. 

“Don’t come too close,” I warn him. “Might combust.” 

It sure as fuck feels that way. 

Baz ignores me, of course he does, and hisses as he touches the back of my neck. “You’re burning up.”

“Couldn’t tell.” But his hand is so cool, and it’s such a relief. I whine when he takes it away, but sigh when he cups my dripping wet face with both hands. It feels good, he’s not exactly freezing cold, but he’s cool enough that I just want to burrow into him. I know he’ll absorb my extra body heat.

“We should take your temperature,” Baz murmurs. He rakes his fingers through my hair to push it out of my face. I close my eyes.

“S’not a fever.”

“It bloody well is.”

“No,” I opened my eyes again and peer up at him. “Pen said that the holes are closing up again.”

“So you’re trying to tell me that this is just your magic? No one’s magic causes them to burn like this.” Baz’s brows are furrowed. He’s going to wind up with a wicked wrinkle there when he gets older. Assuming he ages. (He has to, I mean, we met when we were eleven. He _ looks _twenty-three now.)

“Maybe I’m just lucky,” I manage to say. I grin as Baz narrows his eyes at me. 

The heat passes and I’m able to breathe a little better with it. I still feel a little warmer than normal, but it’s manageable. I don’t bother putting my clothes back on, Baz has seen me in less. 

“Can you at least put on a shirt?” He asks me as we move from the bedroom to the kitchen where he’s begun to gather ingredients for dinner. He’s cooking for me and it feels so domestic. I love it. 

“Why?” I ask him facetiously. I know damn well why, but I like to stroke my ego a bit sometimes. I wish Baz were shirtless too, like earlier, when we were on the sofa. I can feel my face heat up with a blush and I push that thought away. 

Luckily Baz is too busy focusing on preparing a meal to notice. “You know why.”

“Do I?”

“Snow,” his tone is one of warning, but I ignore it. He doesn’t mean it and there’s no use in pretending otherwise.

“Baz,” I’m leaning forward, elbows on his kitchen bar’s counter. 

The black envelope catches my eye and I can’t help but reach over for it. The paper is nice, expensive, and it smells of patchouli oil. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is embossed in gold calligraphy on the front, along with his address beneath. There’s a red seal with a coat of arms that’s been broken on the back. It looks like a traditional vampire invitation, which is ridiculous. That my mind automatically jumps to that.

“What’s this?” I ask Baz. 

He glances over at me from where he’s been focusing on chopping up carrots. “That’s an invitation to the Midsummer Gala. It’s an annual event that all the elite magical families are invited to.”

“You’ve never mentioned this before,” I point out. I mean, granted we pretended to hate each other growing up (mostly pretended, there was admittedly loads of sexual tension between us once we hit puberty). But I would have thought he’d have mentioned this summer before University. Then again, we had been a little preoccupied with each other then, so maybe it just slipped his mind. 

“I’ve only gone a handful of times,” Baz answers. “Fiona wants me to attend this year, she’s under the impression that the NowNext would use the gala as a target to kidnap mages. To steal their magic.”

He’s begun to saute the carrots with onions, snow peas, and bell peppers and it smells divine. 

“We should go to this then,” I say. It’s only afterward that I’ve realized that I invited myself as his date. We’ve been dating, but I’ve been too fearful to ask if it’s been exclusive between us. Baz is dead handsome, I wouldn’t be surprised if he may have other people trying to be with him. I should probably ask him, I’m just afraid of what the answer may be. 

Baz is smiling at me fondly, it warms his features and causes my heart to do flips. “I wasn’t going to go this year, it’s on your birthday.”

My face is heating up again, I can feel my cheeks blotching. “I, um, well, this is more important than - than that.”

It is - more important that is, to save mages from possibly being kidnapped and dissected by vampires who want their magic than celebrating my birthday. If it’s even truly my birthday, to begin with. I’d like to think it is, it was written on my arm along with my name. If nothing else, it belongs to me. 

The fact that Baz wasn’t going to go because of me, for me, well. It makes me love him even more (I didn’t think that was possible). 

“Besides,” I say after clearing my throat. “You like dressing up.”

“I do,” Baz is making some sort of vegetarian stir fry noodle dish. “This means that, as my date, you’d have to dress up too.”

I make a face. 

“We’ll go shopping on your next day off. While I love the blue suit that Bunce forced on you, we can find something more appropriate for the gala.” Did he love it? Did he find me fit? He said that he thinks I am, earlier, it causes me blood to boil deliciously. 

“Yeah, alright,” I say. “You can take me shopping.”

  
  


**AGATHA**

So much for my brief holiday back home, now it’s a job. The downside to my actual job, that one that I’m working because it’s in my field of study, is that it’s owned and run by the American Western Coven. 

This means that when Fiona Pitch (_ the _ bloody Fiona Pitch) asked for my assistance on the New Blood infiltrating England, I was given more leave and I’m getting paid by the Coven for it. I don’t mind the change in my pocket, but I hate this. I hate being roped into vampire-slaying at all. This isn’t what I wanted to do with my life if I’m perfectly honest. 

“The Midsummer Gala!” Mum is saying as she opens the post. 

It’s Monday and I’m wondering if Minty would be free to hang out. She should be, she doesn’t begin her internship until the fall. 

The Midsummer Gala, being run by Lady Ruth Salisbury, who is highly aware of the NowNext and is doing this with the help of American and English Covens to try and nip this all in the bud before it becomes out of hand. The good thing is that our stunt in Nevada those few years ago did slow the Next Blood’s initial plan quite a bit. It also probably put a target on our backs, mine in particular. But rumors have gone around in the vampire circles that I can wordlessly control fire, so I’m left alone. 

I like Lady Salisbury, and I’m excited to see her again. I’m kind of hoping that she’ll imbibe a little too much and maybe talk to me about her daughter, Lucy. I don’t know why I want to know so much about it, still, after all these years. It doesn’t help that I named my dog after her. 

“We’ll need to go shopping,” Mum says. 

That perks me up a bit, it takes my mind off of the fact that there is a possibility that there is a chance people are going to get attacked and die for this gala. I mean, we’re mages, we probably won’t. It doesn’t mean that we’re untouchable, it doesn’t mean that we’re safe. I can easily see a vampire snatching up a person who went to the gala solo on their way to or from their car. Fiona thinks that some may even try to infiltrate it, that the stronger vampires may try to thrall people. 

I wonder if Baz will be there. He’d be an asset for sure. I wonder when I began to think of people so strategically. That’s a lie, I’ve always thought of people like that, just not in a battle formation. It was never my job to come up with the plans (that was Penny’s). Yet I find myself doing it more often the longer I stay in the Coven.

“We should go shopping,” I agree with my mother. I’d need to wear something functional and easy to move in, just in case it all goes to shit. (It always goes to shit.) Maybe I’ll wear a suit, female suits are very trendy this year.

My parents both know that I’m part of the American Western Coven, they both are aware that I have constant run-ins with vampires and other magical creatures and that the only reason why I’m still home is due to the NowNext. I think they blame Simon for my lifestyle. For the fact that I’m always putting myself in constant danger. I guess some of it could be because of Simon, I grew up going on endless adventures and fighting for my life and being the constant damsel in distress. But Simon had done his job, he was foretold and he did what the prophecy said that he would and then he retired (reluctantly), yet I still seemed to be a magnet for trouble. So, instead of being the one in need of help constantly, I decided to fight back.

“Maybe we can go out for lunch too,” Mum says. 

She’s looking at me hopefully. I know that my parents miss me, I’m their only child and I fucked off to the other side of the globe. I should probably call them more, or facetime them at least. I know I don’t try as hard as I should with them, but I also don’t want to deal with it. I love my parents but I don’t want to feel like I’m a disappointment to them by pursuing what I want and living my life.

I take my mother in. She still looks good, youthful, and I wonder how much of that is magic and how much of that is expensive facial products and procedures. 

“That sounds lovely,” I say. 

She gives me a bright smile and I can’t help but return it.

  
  
  


**PENNY**

“See?” Dad is pointing to the map, “they closed up at an alarming rate. Almost as fast as they opened.”

He’s talking about the dead spots. He’s been talking about them for weeks now, but this is the first time I’ve seen him look nervous. My father is usually cool and collected if a bit scatterbrained, and the fact that he’s concerned is making me nervous. 

“Does this mean that the Insidious Humdrum could come back?” I ask him while taking in all the red string. It’s less than what it was, the holes close and Dad took the red to green. There is more green than there had been a week ago. 

Dad rubs his face, causing his glasses to smudge against the back of his hands and the oil of his hair. I hate when he does that, but he refuses to allow me to make them smudge-proof. If my father were a stronger mage he’d be able to do it himself, but he’s not. My mother is the powerhouse out of the two of them. 

“I couldn’t say,” Dad eventually says. “It’s truly baffling. How does Simon feel?”

I think back to this morning when I peeked into his room and notice that he hadn’t come home from Baz’s Sunday night. I haven’t had a proper conversation about it with him since before we went into the Fairy Realm. 

“I don’t know,” I tell Dad, “we haven’t talked about it. Should he not feel okay?”

“If he’s truly getting his own magic back, it may be a rush of too much at once.” Dad is rubbing at his chin now. It’s scruffy from days of forgetting to shave. “It may be too much for him to handle all at once.”

_ He could go off _. This is what I hear instead of what’s coming out of his mouth. Simon could detonate. I wonder what that would mean for the magical atmosphere. 

My mind wanders back to our horrendous trip to America a few years ago. The water spirit cupping Simon’s face and telling him that he gave too much back. Is this what happens when too much goes back? The dead spots look like they’re being cauterized closed, tightly zipped shut. The excess must be staggering. _ Oh Simon _.

“Should we tell him?” I ask. 

Dad glances over at me, “I think it’d be best to keep an eye on him. If you notice that something is amiss, then yes. He has a right to know, it looks like it’s his magic that’s closing up the holes.”

“What?” I look back at the map, my brow furrowed, “how?”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Dad shrug, “I don’t know, but listen to this, Penny. I've got a theory about Simon’s magic for a few years now.”

This catches my attention. 

“I don’t think Simon was born with magic like this, I mean, no - he has magic, he’s a mage. He has to be, otherwise, he wouldn’t be compatible with the spell that was used to boost up his magic. What I mean is,” Dad begins again, “I think someone created him to be this strong.”

“Are you saying that The Mage just plucked him up out of an orphanage, saw that he had some magic, and then pulled a self-fulfilling prophecy?” I place my hands on my hips. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I think that whatever was done to Simon, it was done before he was born when he was still in the womb. His magic would have been at its most fragile then, easier to manipulate with the right spells.”

The fact that my father is sharing this with me at all means that he found something that could back it up. He’s not one to just throw theories out there like a conspiracist. 

“Where did you read this?” I ask him, but my eyes are sweeping his messy desk, the wall of bookshelves stuffed to the brim, the books on the floor along the wall, under the window, on top of the only chair in the room. I look at his side table and take in the maps and scrolls, take in the empty plates and teacups that need to be taken back to the kitchen. There is so much information here in this room. It could be anywhere.

Dad picks a thick, old, book up from where it’s perched on the floor underneath the map of England. He hands it to me, there are Post-Its on certain pages, probably where he wants me to read. 

“Just let me know how Simon is feeling when you see him. I’m going to go downstairs and make myself some lunch, do you want anything?” Dad asks. 

I shake my head, already flipping through the pages. There are a lot of dark spells in here, taboo ones that are highly illegal. Fascinating. “No, thank you, I’m meeting with Shepard.”

Wait - what time is it? I take my phone out of my back pocket and realize that I’m already fifteen minutes late. Damn it all. 

  
  
  


**SIMON**

I’m once again the last one to leave my job, my boss just walked out before me and I’m left locking up. It’s fine, I’m due for that promotion to assistant manager soon, I’ll gladly be the last one out. 

I’m at the employee exit when I realize I’m not alone. If it’s another vampire or goblin, I’m going to think that this area of London is infested. 

Nicodemus Petty is leaning against the furthest wall on the building across from me, half-hidden in shadow. He looks worse than before if that were possible. Still in a cheap suit, looking like a henchman to a movie villain. I haven’t seen him since Watford. My heart aches at the thought of Ebb, but her brother no longer looks like her. The years have not been kind to him. 

“What do you want?” I ask, it’s not as if I’m intimidated by a de-fanged, non-magic using, has-been mage-vampire. 

“Just checking if the rumors were true,” Nicodemus says. His voice is rougher than it had been the last time I saw him. 

“What? That the former Chosen One works at a club?” I roll my eyes. 

“If I know how to find you so easily, so will others,” he points out. 

I hate riddles. I mean, I’m good at them, but only because I had to be growing up. Everything back then was a bloody riddle that needed to be solved. It doesn’t take away from the fact that I truly hate them. 

I take a few steps in Nicodemus’ direction. “Just tell me what you’re doing here, it’s been a long night and I just want to get home.” I’ve got to go to the gym, actually, but that’s not his business. 

“The Next Blood have a large sum on your head,” Nicodemus says. He stands there all casual as if I couldn’t overpower him and stake him in the blink of an eye (no magic needed). 

“Why?” I ask.

“You’re the Chosen One. The strongest magician who ever lived, the one who was foretold. They’re interested in you,” he says. 

I snort, “I used to be. Not so much anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter to them,” Nicodemus shrugs, “you once had more magic than anyone could imagine. They want to put you under a microscope.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You avenged my sister,” he frowns at me. “You killed her murderer. This is me paying you back. You need to watch yourself, you’re not safe.”

I nod. “Right. Thanks.”

I leave him there, it’s probably not smart to turn my back to a vampire (even a non-threatening one), but I truly am tired and I’ve had enough of today already even though the sun has yet to rise. 

So now I have to watch out for goblins, vampires, and the NowNext. I just want to live a normal life, with a handsome boyfriend and supportive friends, was that too much to ask for?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter is filler.

**BAZ**

“Oi, tosser,” Dev peers down at me from over my cubicles’ wall, “want to get lunch?”

My cousin is an accountant, he works a floor above me. We’re not as close as we were as children, but he’s still one of my few friends. 

I look at my computer’s clock and nod, “let me just save this.” 

Being a financial advisor isn’t as fiscally stable a career as an accountant, but I enjoy networking and I’ve done well despite only working here for a month. I’ve already gained two clients that are minor corporations. It’s not exactly an exciting job, it’s nothing like Penelope’s or even Simon’s, but I enjoy it. 

Dev waits for me as I lock my computer and get up to follow him out. We’re both in suits and ties, expensive watches and shoes. Our hair is neatly combed, and we match our steps like we always have. We look like every other yuppie having lunch in the area. 

It’s after we ordered our food and are seated that my cousin finally decides to tell me what it is that he wants. 

“You going to the gala?” Dev asks after swallowing a bite of his salad. He’s on a diet, although I can’t quite understand why since he seems to be in shape. He’s all about protein shakes and salads and cucumber water. 

I look down at my steak sandwich. It’s rare and is still pink in the middle. I need it, it helps to tide me over, especially since I’ve learned how to control my fangs in public. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I eat, I’m an active person (and I’m a vampire), my body stays in shape. 

“Unfortunately,” I answer him as I take a bite of my food. Dev wrinkles his nose and I know it’s because it’s still a little bloody. That is honestly the best part for me. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Dev says, “I asked Phillipa Stainton to go as my date.”

That is a name I haven’t heard in nearly a decade. My insides clench with old guilt at the thought of what I had done to her. I didn’t know that was going to happen, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling this way. I had destroyed the tape recorder years ago.

“She’s recovered her voice, has been able to talk again for years,” Dev goes on as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “She works in marketing, for a non-profit organization that helps children. I’ve been talking to her for about a month now. We’ve been dating a little.”

She’s gotten her voice back. She’s had her voice back for  _ years _ . Oh, thank Crowley and Merlin and Morgana and Methulsa. 

I nod as I take another bite of my food. Chew, swallow, repeat. 

“Do you like her?” I ask him. I can’t remember much of Phillipa, only that she was annoying and followed Simon everywhere. During the same year that Simon was following  _ me _ . (He said it was because he was certain I had some sort of nefarious plot, but honestly, I think it was because he fancied me. He just didn’t understand it.)

Dev scoffs as if what I just asked was ridiculous, “of course.”

“Then I’m happy for you.” It’s not a lie, I do wish Dev happiness. 

“What about you?” Dev asks, his eyes narrow in on me. There we go, he’s finally cutting to the chase. He’s done speaking his fluff piece. Dev is good at that, coming across as non-offsetting. 

“What about me?”

“Are you taking  _ Simon Snow _ to the gala?”

I pause in the middle of eating and place down my sandwich neatly. I arch a brow at him, “how are you even aware that we’re back together?” I hadn’t told anyone. Not that I’m ashamed, but it’s no one’s business while the two of us are figuring things out. 

Dev has his phone in his hand, and what looks to be Instagram up - he came prepared. He tilts it toward me to see. It’s a selfie of Agatha, taken from when we were prisoners in the Fairy Realm, I had seen it on my feed a few days ago but thought nothing of it. Until Dev takes his fingers and zooms in on the background, which shows the sofa in the living room. Where Simon and I are seated, our heads close together. I doubt Agatha even realized when she posted, I know I didn’t.

“Firstly, it’s unsettling that you stared hard enough at this photo to notice us in the background,” I say while leaning back in my chair. “Secondly, yes. I am.”

Dev rolls his eyes at me. We’re first cousins but we look very little alike. He’s broader than I am, with brown eyes and pink skin. Even when we were children we were contrasts (only, in the beginning, I was golden-brown and he was the pale one of us.) We both take after our mothers, except for our hairline. That’s from our fathers. Still, there are certain expressions that he makes that has me want to punch him, and I can’t help but wonder if I look as big of a twat when I do the same thing.

“What is it with you and him?” He asks me, mouth pursed, “honestly. You keep him to yourself as if he’s a dirty little secret. Why can’t you just be open with me? Or even with Niall? He’s disappointed in the fact that you couldn’t tell us that you were back together again.”

I wish I could tell him that it’s not his business. But Dev and Niall have been my best friends my entire life. I can understand where they’re coming from, I can understand why they were so upset with me the first time Simon and I got together. They’re both open about everything in their lives, and with good reason. We’ve known each other long enough that having a secret significant other seems ridiculous. 

“We knew about Emmanuel,” Dev points out. 

“There was never anything going on with Emmanuel,” I sneer. There truly wasn’t. He still texts me, we keep in touch because we’re  _ friends _ . 

“But with Simon it’s always -” Dev pauses, trying to find his words. 

I sigh. “What I feel for Simon, what I’ve always felt, is something that I keep close to the chest,” I say. “It’s not meant to be offensive to you and Niall. I just, it’s something special to me. I don’t feel the need to flaunt it.”

“Still,” Dev frowns, “the least you can do is tell us. And don’t start on how neither Niall or I talk about every person that we date. This is Simon, it’s different.”

He’s not wrong, it is different. Simon is my one and only. Forever. There would never be anyone else, no one could ever replace him. 

I nod, “you’re right.”

“I know.” Dev rolls his eyes again. He’s such a prat sometimes, he’s lucky that I haven’t attempted to light him on fire. “How’s he doing? It’s been a few years since I’ve seen or heard of him.”

“He’s doing well,” I say. It’s weird to talk to someone in my family so amicably and sincere about something like my boyfriend. (Are we boyfriends? We haven’t talked about it yet.) “He’s a bartender, and he’s  _ fit _ .”

“Gross.”

“It’s true! He’s into CrossFit now,” I feel a smile creeping up on my face as I think of Simon and his shoulders, his thighs, his hair. I’ve got it bad. 

“You look so happy, it’s disgusting,” Dev is trying to frown at me but he’s smiling too. 

This time I roll my eyes at him before getting back to my lunch.

  
  
  


**SHEPARD**

“Wait,” I look over my glasses at Penny. I don’t mean to, they keep sliding down my nose, I just don’t see the point of correcting them. I feel like looking over my glasses at someone sometimes can get my point across. Like in the movies. “What do you mean by ‘go off’?”

She just explained to me how Simon’s magic works (worked?) and all about the history of the Insidious Humdrum. Which, for the record, is a stupid name and doesn’t strike fear into anyone’s heart. It’s no Voldemort, that’s for sure.  _ That  _ name was evil. Although, if I were to go off of what Penny was telling me, Simon isn’t evil, and neither was the Humdrum. 

“Meaning he’s like a nuclear explosion!” Penny’s in the kitchen making a pot of tea. 

I’m at the bar, hopped onto a stool, watching her maneuver around while eating a cookie -  _ biscuit _ . 

“Simon is a magical anomaly,” Penny says, continuing where she left off. 

I find it amazing how a few years with her turned her from high-key suspicious of me to trusting me. I mean, I love it, so I’m not complaining. Being around Penny, being  _ with  _ Penny, it’s always a learning experience and an adventure. I feel like this is where I’m truly meant to be. 

“Do you think he’d be strong enough to defeat my demon?” I can never say Abbadon’s name aloud, for fear of accidentally summoning her. I’ve been seeing her out of the corner of my eyes lately, shadows of bunnies where they shouldn’t be. Bunnies should not induce panic.

“No,” Penny shakes her head, her hair is up in a sloppy bun but there are loose frizzy tendrils that keep escaping. “But he’s very powerful, despite losing so much of it. Once he gets it all back, he'll probably be as powerful as Ebb was. And his and Baz’s magic was compatible, he could use Baz like a wand.”

“Is that not common?” It wasn’t something that I had ever seen in any of my travels. Then again, being in England was the first time that I’ve been able to fully immerse myself in the world of magic. I know creatures, but Talkers were rare and they never allowed anyone to know what they were. I think their caution goes back to the Salem Witch Trials. 

“No!” Penny is pouring tea into two cups now. “Agatha and I were able to share that one time due to dire circumstances. We’re not compatible, it was work, but Simon and Baz, what they’re able to do is different.”

Somehow I’m not surprised. Simon and Baz, in general, are different, more intense. Anything they feel toward each other is deep, it goes beyond words. 

“This is interesting. So what do the books say?” I ask. 

Penny hands me a teacup. Three years living here and I still find them (teacups) adorable. It’s Earl Grey, not my favorite by far, give me some ginger turmeric any day over this. Mitali makes fantastic ginger turmeric tea and she always gives me a thermos of it in the winter.

“That whatever his birth parents did to him, it’s dark, and it was dangerous. Simon could have died before he was even born if it weren’t for the fact that his natural magical abilities were strong enough to save him. I also think that it had to do with his mother. She must have been powerful, but I think Simon may have drained her to survive.” Her face is pinched, and I want to smooth the wrinkles out from between her brows but don’t. We’re not there yet, and I’m not sure if we ever will be if I’m not cured. 

“What’re you going to tell Simon?” I ask this because Penny isn’t a  _ feelings  _ person. She can be a bit harsh sometimes because she doesn’t see the point of softening blows. I admire that, she likes getting to the point. Sometimes though, you need to put on kid-gloves.

“I haven’t a clue,” Penny says. Her phone buzzes from her pocket and she takes it out, glancing down at it. “It’s Agatha. She’s downstairs and wants to be buzzed in. I don’t understand why she didn’t just ring the bell first.”

Almost on cue, the doorbell rings. 

Agatha comes into our apartment several minutes later, not a hair out of place. She is very pretty, like almost perfectly so. It makes me wonder if she uses magic to look this way, or if she’s not a hundred percent human. Like maybe there’s something else in her lineage. Like how Fleur in Harry Potter was part Veela. (Veela’s aren’t real, which had me disappointed when I found out.)

“Did your mother get invited to the Midsummer Gala?” Agatha asks Penny in place of hello. 

I don’t find it rude at all, not when it’s between this small group. They’ve all known each other since childhood, and I guess when you almost die with someone on the daily, you tend to forgo pleasantries. 

“Probably,” Penny shrugs while pouring Agatha a cup of tea. 

“Hello Shepard,” Agatha says to me as if just realizing that I was sitting there, “how are you?”

She’s still so polite to me. I wonder how long she’ll have to know me before she becomes comfortable with me to just demand answers. Or maybe it’s just a Penny thing. Maybe they’ve just got that kind of relationship. 

Relationship, it has my mind reeling back to Penny and I kissing. Which I shouldn’t be thinking about right now. 

“I’m well, how are you?” I say to Agatha. 

“Well, thank you,” she says while taking a dainty sip from her cup. “This is disgustingly strong.”

“Make your own next time,” Penny says. “What about the gala? Isn’t it full of posh tossers who are typically throwing money away?”

“Yes,” Agatha nods, “but Fiona Pitch is under the impression that it’s going to be attacked by the NowNext. Have you all received an invitation yet?”

“Not here,” Penny glances over at me, it’s a silent question asking if we’ve gotten anything in the mail. I shake my head.

Agatha nods and digs through her handbag, a large expensive thing that she threw on the counter. “Good thing I spoke with Lady Salisbury lately about it.” She brings out a black envelope. 

“Lovely,” Penny says. “So maybe the plan to summon Abbadon can be pushed back. This gala is exactly on the summer solstice. We need to summon her on or around that day, she’s a fire demon. We get into the NowNext compound, summon her, and kill two birds with one stone. How does that sound?” 

“Insane,” Agatha takes another sip of her tea. “Truly. What kind of plan is that?”

“You’ve something better?” Penny narrows her eyes at Agatha. 

“I vote for a group meeting,” I say.

Agatha shakes her head, “how would we find the NowNext compound?”

Penny is giving Agatha a once over, “live bait.”

“I am not going to get myself kidnapped!” Agatha hisses, “fuck that!”

“Maybe Simon?” Penny chews on her thumbnail, “we can ask Simon if he minds getting kidnapped. As bait. He’ll probably be all for it if it means he gets to kill something.”

“Happy birthday, Simon! By the way, you’re going to be our diversion. Enjoy being twenty-four!” Agatha says it all sarcastically and Penny shrugs again.

“I’m guessing we’re going to need fancy clothes for this, right?” I think they forgot I was there. That happens sometimes when they argue.

Agatha smiles sweetly at me, “you’re correct. Which is why I’m here. We’re going shopping.”

“Can’t we get Baz to go out and buy our things?” Penny asks, “that way we don’t have to do anything and he still manages to get us to look good.”

“No, put on some shoes,” Agatha says. “I’ve just spent the majority of the day with my mother and I could use the break.”

“Yes ma’am,” I say while hopping off the barstool and going into my bedroom for my sneakers.

  
  


**PENNY**

The Midsummer Gala has always been a posh, pretentious, dance where people threw their money away on stupid nonsense and called it charity.

This year, however, the money is going to Watford. So it’s not like I can protest against the gala, our old school needs all the help that it could get. The Mage’s reforms really did a number on our education, we lacked so much of what had been in place before he took over.

My thoughts are circling back to Simon as we get into Agatha’s VW. His birthday is the same day as the gala, the same day we need to summon Abbadon. His birthday is a magical day and it has power. 

My phone is buzzing in my pocket. I take it out and see it’s a group text from Baz to myself, Shepard, Agatha, and Simon. 

Basil [14:13]: Fiona just called me. 

Basil [14:14]: Apparently when the Next Blood had Agatha a few years ago, they took her blood sample. With that they were able to track down her family, and who they are related to, and more still.

Basil [14:14]: The Next Blood knows who a majority of magical families within England are now.

Basil [14:14]: The Coven is calling for an emergency meeting. All mages are to be on high alert.

“Holy shit,” Shepard says from the backseat. He then reads the messages aloud for Agatha to hear. 

I think of Simon, who hadn’t come home last night. Simon who didn’t have to go to work until later and hadn’t answered my messages. Simon, the Chosen One, the most powerful mage to walk the Earth. 

I send him another text. No response. I pick up my phone and dialed his number. Straight to voicemail. I do it again, and again, and again. Nothing. I’ll do a bloody tracking spell on him if need be, he’s never not responded to me. 

“Guys,” I say, “I think Simon’s been kidnapped.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been changed for future chapters.

**SIMON**

Everything is foggy and my stomach roils as I roll over. Where the hell am I?

I’ve never been kidnapped before, I’m not counting the time that the Humdrum teleported Penny and me from Watford. In retrospect I don’t think that was the Humdrum, I think that was _ me _ wanting to escape the sight of Agatha and Baz holding hands. I couldn’t even tell you who I was jealous of (that’s a lie, it was Agatha. _ I _ wanted to be the one to hold Baz’s hand.) The sight of the two of them had me wanting to disappear and I think that my wish used up so much magic that it conjured the Humdrum. 

I wonder if this is a standard kidnapping. I should ask Agatha when I see her. There’s no doubt in my mind that someone would find me when they realize that I wasn’t answering my phone. 

Nicodemus had warned me, and the vampires still got the jump on me as I was headed toward the tube to go home. (I honestly didn’t expect them to get me that same bloody night). They got a good hit, but I’m not that surprised since they have vampire strength and speed on their side. I mean, I’m strong, but not supernaturally so. 

The bed that they placed me on is comfortable and massive. This entire bedroom looks unsettlingly familiar. The fireplace is off and the mantle is dusty but I recognize it. I groan as I try to roll off of the bed, my head aches something fierce. Things are a bit dizzying as I finally manage to stand, I think I’m going to throw up. Instead, my eyes land on the gargoyles engraved into the bedframe.

Oh shit. The bad guys have me locked up in the middle of the biggest dead spot in the UK. I’m in Pitch Manor, in Baz’s old bedroom. (Did they even know that they placed me in his bedroom? Or did they figure this was just a random, unused, room?) Oh _ fuck _. Baz is going to be pissed. 

  
  


**BAZ**

I’m dragging myself back home after a long and tedious day at work. Honestly, I cannot wait until it’s the weekend when I don’t have to do shit. Except maybe spend some time with Simon. 

I pause outside of my flat’s door and frown. The smells from inside aren’t correct. Pizza, sage, cinnamon, citrus. Why were there people in my home? I gave out keys in case of an emergency!

“Why are you all here?” I ask as I close the door behind me. I place my satchel on the sideboard that I keep in the hallway leading to the foyer. (It’s a lovely sideboard, belonged to my grandparents. It’s mid-century and solid wood. Probably worth a small fortune.)

They’re sitting at my dining room table, which is right off of the kitchen. A large box of pizza sat in the center of the table and they’re eating off of napkins, like heathens. They’ve all various beverages from my refrigerator, and I spy a mug of what smells to be blood before the empty seat at the table. What the fuck?

“Come eat, Baz,” Agatha pats the empty chair beside her.

I give her a suspicious look before doing as I’m told, taking off my suit coat and draping it over the back of the chair. “I’m assuming it’s not something that important if you’re all eating pizza.”

The mug is still warm and I’m a little weirded out that someone (smells like Shepard) bothered to heat a mug of cows blood for me. I’ve no issue drinking from a mug in front of them, but I do have an issue with someone else serving it. Still, I keep this to myself as I tuck in. Grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a large bite. 

Penny is seated across from me, she’s shaking her leg and twisting her ring, her lower lip is being chewed on anxiously. She’s staring down at her phone. 

I down the blood quickly, her anxiety is contagious. I’m beginning to get nervous as well. 

“Done?” Agatha asks.

I’m not, I’d like to drink more but it can wait, for now. 

“What’s going on?” I highly doubt that they’re planning a surprise party for Simon’s birthday. This feels more like a war counsel, a way for us all to discuss our upcoming demon summoning and the gala. 

“I’m worried about Simon,” Penny blurts. “He’s not answering me, he always answers me. He didn’t make it home last night and I thought he was here. Was he here?”

“What?” I ask, and I can feel my features shift, my brows rising and my eyes widening. “What do you mean he didn’t go home last night? He wasn’t here.”

“Fuck!” Penny says, she stands up abruptly, causing the chair to drag across the wood flooring harshly. “Fuck! Do you have a candle, Basil? We’re doing a seance.” 

I find a candle, it’s a cedar scented one that I light from time to time. Along with a framed photo of Simon that I still had from my Leavers Ball, it’s candid, he had no idea that it was taken and he’s looking at me - I’m off camera - with such intense fondness that it always takes my breath away. I also bring out an antique map of the UK that I had in my office. It was my great-great-grandmother’s and drawn by hand. 

We’ve moved the coffee table in the living room and are sitting in a square formation. I’m not even sure if I should be a part of this, you need a soul to do it, and we’re not even sure if I truly have one. Still, if it doesn’t work because of me then I can easily remove myself and the other three can do it, but the idea was that with three mages it should be more precise. More powerful. 

We hold hands and listen to Penny murmur incantations. We watch the candle float as she keeps her eyes closed and her mind focused. The flame should show use a vision of where to go, or at least burn the map in the spot where Simon could be. If he is missing, if he was truly kidnapped and didn’t just forget to charge his phone (and maybe went to the gym without Penny or Shepard realizing.)

The candle levitates and sways. Nothing appears. We wait and keep at it for fifteen minutes before we pull apart, Shepard quickly catching the candle and blowing it out. 

“Remember in America when you tried this with Agatha and we couldn’t find her?” He asks, “it was because she was in a spot with no magic. A, um, what’s it called here? A dead spot.”

“Of course they’d take him to a dead spot,” I roll my eyes, “they did it with Wellbelove, we should have thought about that.”

“To be fair, it’s been three years Basil,” Penny says. 

She’s not wrong, time has a way of softening memories and erasing ones that don’t hold much worth in them. Although I could never forget seeing Simon on the desert sand, his blood pooling around him, his wing bent at a ghastly angle. 

“Fortunately, my father is the main person of interest when it comes to dead spots,” Penny says as she takes her phone out. She’s swiping through her photos as I take my framed belongings off of the floor to put back in their proper places in my office. 

“We could easily sweep all of the dead spots in a few days,” Agatha says, she’s twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers. “I don’t think they’d kill him. He’s much more powerful than I am, and they didn’t do anything to me other than take my blood.”

Yes, they took her blood. They used her DNA to link it back to several other mages and I doubt they’re quite finished. They could eventually find out every single mage that ever lived and is still living. They’ve had three years with that DNA, according to Fiona they’ve got the UK done and have moved onto the mainland. It’s only a matter of time. 

“Wait,” Shepard pushes his glasses up so that they’re resting properly on his face and his brows are furrowed. “If they take Simon’s blood and do the same thing that they did you, Agatha, does that mean that it’ll track down who his parents are?”

We stare at him. 

“Aleister Crowley,” I breathe. 

“You’re right,” Penny says. 

Agatha takes Penny’s phone from her hand and begins to look at whatever photo Penny had been. I glance over her shoulder and see it’s a map. It’s the same map Professor Bunce used so many years ago when the dead spots kept appearing. It’s got less red now, at least that would make it easier to narrow down. 

“I’m sending this to everyone,” Agatha tells Penny. “We can start tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t,” I say, and it's painful. I shouldn't allow the words to escape me. “I’m still on ninety-day probation with my job, if I miss a day I could be fired.” 

There’s no possibility of it, I definitely would be fired. I can’t lose my job, I know that Penelope would argue, she’d say that Simon was more important and that I already have enough money without the need to work. She'd be right about it. 

I hate saying that I won’t be searching for Simon with them aloud. I hate saying it at all, as if Simon’s less important. He’s not, he means more to me than anything in this world. I should be tearing this country apart for him, I should be doing my damndest to find him myself. And go feral and kill a bunch of vampires in the process. I would if I could, but out of all of us, I’m the only one with a corporate job. The only one with true limitations, even Simon’s job as a bartender has availability during the day.

Penny looks as if she wants to say something, her eyes narrowed in on me. She wants to chew me out, I can already hear the words forming in her mouth. Instead, Shepard steps in. 

“We get it. Plus it’s not like we’ll find him right away, when we narrow it down we’ll tell you,” he says it with an understanding look on his face. 

“I can visit areas after work,” I offer lamely. “I can send Fiona.”

“Yes,” Agatha says, “send your aunt. She’s the reason why I’m still in England instead of enjoying the beach back in California. She can damn well help with finding where the NowNext are located and getting Simon back. He saved the world of mages, she owes him the same as everyone else.”

This is the first time I’ve ever seen Agatha look so fierce and seem so full of emotion. She’s usually monotone and bored. 

“Are you alright?” Penny asks her. She’s noticed it too. 

“I just am so relieved that I’m not the one who’s kidnapped for once,” Agatha says, “not that I’m glad that it was Simon.”

“We best be going, narrow down our areas and see what we’ll need to take with us,” Penny says. 

“Stakes?” Shepard guesses. 

They’re making their way toward my front door, leaving their mess of pizza and cups on my table for me to clean up after them. Slobs. 

“Fire,” I say. 

Fire is catching, and there is nothing that I’d like to see than the fucking NowNext goes up in flames.

  
  


**SIMON**

They took my phone. They probably found a way to unlock it and look at all of my shit. I don’t even know if I’m pissed at the breach of privacy. There’s nothing explicit on there, some texts to my boss, and my friends, and Baz. Do they know about Baz? Did _Lamb_ tell them anything about the vampire with mage friends? Fuck, is _ Baz _in danger? I will murder every single vampire here if they even touch a hair on Baz’s head. 

I get up and pace the room. There’s nothing here save for the furniture that’s covered in sheets to prevent the dust from ruining the upholstery and wood. 

They bring me food but don’t say anything when they leave the tray on the floor by the door. I don’t plan on eating it, it’s probably drugged. I try to remember what Agatha had said about her stay with the NowNext. They treated her well, they sure as hell didn’t jump her on the way home. They kept her well fed and took her blood every few hours to run tests. 

I think they’re waiting for me to be drugged so that I’d put up less of a resistance. Not that it matters, I can't do much against a vampire without a weapon or magic. 

Wait.

I look at my pointer finger where my ring is. The Crystal Violin can take any shape. It’s meant to kill demons, it can probably kill a few vampires. I don’t know if it’s magic or something else that causes it to change. 

I stare at my hand for a moment and then flick my wrist. The sword is instant, perfectly balanced and sharp enough to split a piece of paper in half. (I should know, I've done it before.)

I smile at it. I look at the food. Salads and carrot sticks and grilled chicken with water. Or what I assume is water. I wonder if it’s all drugged. I can’t starve myself forever, this reminds me of when we were stuck in the Fairy Realm and we had to ration our food. Was that only about two weeks ago? It feels like it's been ages.

This room feels like a lifetime ago. I stare at the fireplace and smile to myself, flicking my wrists and letting the sword turn back into the ring. The memory of Baz underneath me on the floor, arching up to meet me, kissing me until it hurt. That was probably the best Christmas that I’ve ever had. I mean, no, it was horrible that Baz tried to kill himself by lighting a forest on fire, and the Humdrum came and created this massive dead spot, but all this shittiness aside - I kissed Baz here for the first time. We slept together on the sofa, squeezed tightly together until there was no space between us. He slept peacefully in my arms and I allowed myself to breathe in his cologne. 

I should be able to escape here. I try the windows, I’m on the second landing, but vines are creeping up near the window. It probably can’t support my weight, but that’s fine, I just need to get out of the dead spot. I don’t know if I can get out of here without the NowNext realizing it. The dead spot is a four-mile radius, it takes the entire Pitch estate. (I still feel guilty about it.) 

Maybe if I try early in the morning it can work? I’d like my phone back though. I can always get a new one, but that’s not the point. I’ve photos on that one, memories of good times from the last few years that I didn’t think to back up. 

I’ll give myself two days, which is unwise, I know that I’ll be hungry and dehydrated and weaker than normal. But I grew up malnourished, I know how to deal with hunger. I was the bloody Humdrum - wanting to fill the void won’t be new. It’ll suck, but I’ll adjust. As long as I can get to the village, where the magic will be accessible. My scent will make me easy to track, so I just need to make sure I have enough time to book it. 

My head hurts from when the vampires hit me. There’s a small lump on the back of my head, near the base of my neck. I’ll sleep for a bit and think of what to do when the world isn’t so tilted. 

  
  


**PENNY**

It’s Friday night and we’re all in mine, Simon, and Shepard’s flat when we finally narrow down where the NowNext are being housed. Simon had been with them for five days. Five fucking days. He could be dead. They could have Turned him. I’ve been in a panicked frenzy, trying not to make myself sick with worry. It’s difficult.

“They’re in fucking Hampshire!” Fiona Pitch growled to Agatha over the phone. She was on speakerphone, calling from somewhere in Amsterdam. Her leads took her to the continent. “They’re in my family's house! In _ my _house!”

“Father said that he was renting it to Normals for the season, it was my idea to use it as a sort of vacation house. It’s my house, and it’s just empty, why not use it? Vera had gotten it prepared a few weeks ago,” Baz says, his gaze far away and his mouth is set in a deep frown. “Fuck.”

“Shall we go then?” Agatha asks after hanging up on Fiona. “Are we enough to destroy a mansion full of vampires?”

“Doubtful,” I say, “but we can try.”

“We’ll need weapons if there’s no magic there. Maybe we should wear some crosses?” Shepard suggests. It’s not a bad plan. I summon three crosses, two from my bedroom (old relics that I had to study), and Simon’s old cross that he hasn’t worn in years. 

“We can stop at the petrol to pick up lighters,” Agatha says. “Nothing else works, you have to have incredible upper body strength to pierce through a vampire torso with a stake. Zippos may be the best bet for us.”

“Yes,” Baz says, he stands up and fishes his car fob out of his front pocket. He’s got this look about him, a dangerous smile that promises nothing but trouble. It sends chills down my spine and makes me nervous to be around him. He looks like he’d easily tear someone apart with his bare hands, “let’s go, it’s a few hours, we’ll be there before midnight.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter has some gore.**

**SIMON**

My escape plan failed. It was, admittedly, terribly executed. I was caught as soon as my feet hit the ground, but I managed to kill two vampires before I was sedated. They’ve kept me tied to a gurney, in nothing but a hospital gown. They keep injecting me with random chemicals and taking samples of my blood. They’re keeping me fed via a tube, it pumps directly into my stomach. I would be horrified if I were able to. Instead, I’m disoriented, I don’t even know what they’re doing to me. Everything is static as I drift in and out of consciousness. 

  
  


**SHEPARD**

Baz drives like a speed demon, especially once we’re out of London. Penny is calling her mom to get the Coven made aware. 

“Should we even be going in without backup?” I ask Agatha, she’s beside me in the back seat, her arms are crossed as she watches the scenery fly. There’s a bag of lighters and cans of cheap hairspray between us. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t been in some risky situations in the past. Usually, we could talk our way out of things, but this time’s different. I’m remembering the Nevada desert and walking right into a trap.

She shrugs and then turns to face me, “in my experience, it doesn’t matter. We’re a very lucky bunch, and we tend to cause chaos wherever we go.”

That doesn’t answer my question in the slightest. Agatha tugs her hair out of her face and into a ponytail. “We’re going into a place that may not have any magic, and that’s not for lack of language. There’s a village not too far from Pitch Manor. We're three humans and a vampire up against probably a house of vampires. We're fucked, even with backup.”

Great, that's exactly what I wanted to hear. The probability of death tonight is higher than my standard day to day adventures.

“Merlin, Wellbelove,” Baz says from the driver's seat. 

Agatha sighs and shrugs, “It's the truth, Basilton.”

“Well, if we do perish tonight, know that I care about you all,” Baz says.

“Oh Baz,” Penny says, but her voice is shaking, “don't make a scene.”

  
  
  


**BAZ**

Pitch Manor looks to be in tip-top shape. We park the car further down the drive and have decided to go the rest of the way on foot. Hopefully, we'll remain downwind and put off no scent until we get into the house. 

Where could they be keeping Simon? I'd have to sniff him out like the bloodhound that I am. I hope he's alive, I can't afford to think of the alternative. Not when Simon Snow is the hero, he's not meant to die. Our story isn't Game of Thrones. We're to have a happily ever after, we deserve it.

“We’ll use the servants' entrance,” I say once the house is in view. I try to commit the manor to memory if all else fails our bailout plan is to burn it all to the ground. It's our last resort, but who knows how tonight will end? (In flames.)

I use my keys to get in and am relieved to not see a soul in the servant's wing. I couldn't imagine anyone coming this way, it doesn't have the same grandeur as the rest of the house. 

“Where could they have Simon?” Agatha asks. 

I take in a deep breath and try to focus on all the unfamiliar scents in my childhood home. Penny is formulating a plan, to the best of her ability. We're going in blind. This is insanity. 

There are about twenty members of the NowNext. Copper scented mixed with antiseptic. Hospital like with how sterile they are. The dust of the manor doesn't help, and it takes me several attempts and shuffling around the servants quarters before I find it. Buttery popcorn and apples and heady blood. Simon.

“We've twenty vampires to deal with,” I say, cutting off whatever the others were saying. “If I can smell them, then they can smell us. This isn't going to be much if an ambush.” Of course, they can smell us, I’ve three humans with me - all of which smell like delicious food. 

“Well, we’re fucked,” Agatha mumbles. 

“The goal is to get them outside,” Penny says. “Shepard can take care of them from there.”

“I’m wholly against murdering a bunch of vampires, just for the record,” Shepard says. 

Agatha takes the satchel full of aerosol containers and her lighter before passing a can to Penny, “let’s do this.” She’s shoving more lighters into her pockets.

I shake my head when she attempts to give me a can and lighter as well. I won’t need it. We’re in the servants' kitchens, I dig through the drawers for a large butcher knife. “Simon’s upstairs on the second landing. Somewhere in the South Wing.” He doesn’t smell Turned, and he doesn’t smell dead. That’s something. 

  
  


**AGATHA**

We’re more than likely going to die here. That’s exactly how I’ve always wanted to go, slaying vampires - says no one ever. I’ll either die by a NowNext member or by the bloody fire demon that Shepard is summoning outside. All this because we need to rescue Simon, I wonder if this is how he felt all those years he had to come for me. 

I follow Baz, hairspray and lighter at the ready. I feel only a little bad about the fact that we’re here to slaughter them. Only because, except for the fact that they’ve dissected mages to see if they can get their magic, the NowNext aren’t too bad. They don’t even drink blood, and they are making positive medical progress in the world, they’d be perfect if they weren’t vampires.

Baz leads the way up the stairs, faster than my eye can follow, graceful as all get out. I’ve never seen him move this way, not even when we were in Nevada. He’s feral, his fangs are out and he has a butcher knife in his left hand. 

I’m close behind him, and Penny is at the end of our line. 

The first vampire who sees us heading into the main part of the house puts his hands up easily.

“Whoa, I don’t want any trouble,” he says in his flat, American, accent. 

“Then get out,” Baz sneers at him. As if it matters, as if Shepard isn’t outside with a bloody fire demon in the ready. None of the Next Blood are going to survive the night.

The vampire nods and slowly makes his way out of the house through the front door. One down, nineteen more to go.

  
  
  


**PENNY**

Five vampires try to fight us as we make our way toward the grand staircase. Pitch Manor is lovely. Baz stakes three without so much as flinching. He’s swift and precise and it makes me nauseous seeing the blood drip down his forearm from each vampire. 

“I just wanted a nice vacation!” Agatha says as she uses her lighter and hairspray method on the fourth vampire. “Is that too much to ask for? Why is there always bullshit drama?”

I follow her lead on the fifth vampire. There’s a six vampire behind him that runs past us and goes outside. The smell of coagulated blood, charred flesh and ash make me gag, but we proceed, stepping over the corpses. 

I can hear the front door opening and closing two more times, with what I’m assuming as more vampires leaving the house. Some of these NowNext members aren't exactly fighters.

  
  
  


**BAZ**

When we hit the second landing, four more vampires seem to materialize. I’m baring my fangs, and I’m covered in blood. It’s disgusting. 

Penny and Agatha keep their backs to each other as they use their lighters, but I’m struggling with the one I’m fighting. He’s bigger than me, wider, almost stronger. He’s biting my shoulders and arms, pinning my knife arm behind my back and punching me in the solar plexus until I can barely breathe. 

Penny is screaming, but it’s a distant sound, my head is reeling. I’m biting at my attacker's throat once I have an opening, chewing through tendon and muscle. I’ll fucking decapitate him, he’s making gurgling sounds, he’s yanking chunks of my hair out as he tries to get me off of him. I’m not letting go, and now that I have my weaponed hand back in usage I use the knife to sever whatever my mouth couldn’t do. His head rolls to the floor and his body drops. My face and chest are smeared in blood, and the smell is rancid. 

I turn to the remaining two vampires that are still trying to get at Agatha and Penny. I jump on the back of one and saw his head off in nearly two hard strokes just as Agatha manages to light the other one on fire. 

“Are you two alright?” I ask my two companions. I know I’m covered in blood and possibly brain matter. “Who’s keeping count?”

Penny has a wound on her arm from where a vampire probably scratched her. The smell of sage is pungent. “We’re fine, and we’ve nine more to go if your guess of twenty was correct.”

In the distance, I could hear shouting coming from outside, more vampires trying to escape. I sniff at the air again, trying to make out Simon’s scent over all of the dead man’s blood on me. It’s cold and thick and disgusting, I hate the taste of it in my mouth. “This way.”

  
  
  


**AGATHA**

Baz could probably kill twenty vampires by himself. He’s ruthless. I’m trying to light another on fire when my hairspray runs out. He knocks the lighter out of my hand and grabs me by my wrist tightly, bringing me closer to him and holding my chin back to bite me. 

“Fuck!” I scream as I point at the vampire about to lunge at me and call my inner flame out. It’s unintentional, a last resort type move that should not work. But it does, the vampire catches as quick as flash paper. “Magic! There’s magic!”

I jump back quick enough to prevent myself from getting burned.

Penny has her hand up, “ **Off With Your Head** !”

“ **Burn Baby Burn** !” Baz says as if he hadn’t been about to rip out another vampire’s throat with his teeth. 

My wand is out of the waistband of my jeans quickly, “ **Light It Up** !”

The magic isn’t strong, it’s weak, but it’s enough to get through the remainder of vampires that want to fight. Half of them try to escape.

“He’s here!” Baz growls as he stops in front of a wooden door, “in my fucking bedroom, are you kidding me?”

The screams from outside are so loud that we can hear them from where we are. 

“Shepard!” Penny eyes down the hallway to where the stairs are. 

“I’ll go,” Baz says, “get Snow out of here.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye. 

“He’s going to die out there,” I say as I open the bedroom door, bracing myself for the worst. 

  
  
  


**PENNY**

Simon is on a gurney. He’s got IV’s in his arms and a catheter, and a feeding tube. He’s gaunt and has the beginning of a beard and looks thinner than he’s been in years. 

“How do we even take these things out?” I ask before my gaze catches to the computers set up nearby. What in the hell? 

“Are their gloves?” Agatha asks, she’s looking through the medical supplies. “I won’t get to wash my hands, but at least I can do this.” She’s taking gauze and plasters and medical tape out. 

“Do you know what you’re even doing?” I ask her as I begin to disconnect the laptop that was left behind. 

“More than you do,” Agatha sighs as she carefully takes the IV out of Simon’s arm. 

He’s in nothing more than a flimsy hospital gown. I glance around looking for something we can put on him and find his clothes in a drawer. The least we can do is put him in underwear and jeans. 

Agatha is shifting the gown and carefully removing the catheter. It makes me queasy just watching the tube come out of Simon. (I’ve seen Simon naked more than I’ve cared to admit.)

“I can’t believe those bastards put a feeding tube in him,” Agatha mutters. 

From Baz’s window, I can see the woods on fire. The Normals from the village over must be able to see this, it’s only a matter of time before the fire department is sent out to take care of the flames. What were we thinking? Shepard summoned Abaddon but how are we going to kill the demon? The only one with the ability is Simon, and he is in no shape to fight anything! 

For the first time since we’ve started this rescue mission, I don’t think we’re going to make it out alive. We’re all going to end up being little more than ashes and Shepard will be taken down to Hell - or wherever Abaddon will take him. 

Once Agatha is done with Simon’s stomach I’m there, sliding his legs through his boxer-briefs and pulling them up. His jeans are trickier, but with Agatha’s help, we manage. 

“ **Wakey Wakey** ,” I point my hand at Simon, pouring as much magic as the house allows. 

Simon stirs and groans as Agatha helps him sit up. 

“Come on,” Agatha says softly, but Simon is heavily leaning onto her. She huffs and removes her gloves before placing her hands on his bicep and steadying him up. “Wake up, Simon.”

Simon’s eyes are blurry and out of focus, probably from whatever drugs they were pumping into him. “Aggie?”

“Yes, I’ve come to rescue you,” Agatha says. 

“Mm,” Simon nods as he staggers to his bare feet. He’s hunched forward, arms around his abdomen. His ring glows on his pointer finger as if trying to make the pain go away. 

“ **Get Well Soon** ,” I point at him, “ **Early To Bed, Early To Rise** .”

“Can you walk?” Agatha asks as if Simon has a choice. There is a good chance this place is going to be on fire soon, he has to walk. 

“Yeah,” Simon lies through a clenched jaw, his breathing is ragged. He’s staggering and needs both of us to balance himself on. 

I set the laptop down on the bed and help Agatha support his weight. As interesting as the data collected on Simon would be, getting him out here is my priority. 

  
  
  


**SHEPARD**

There is fire everywhere. 

Sweat drips down my brow, I’m in the middle of it all. Abaddon is protecting me from the vampires who have run into the woods. Baz is there too, fighting some off, he’s covered in blood and his clothes are torn and his hair is a mess, but he fights. 

The woods are on fire. Flames lick up the trees and down to the ground. 

Damn it.

I see Penny, Agatha, and Simon make their way out of the house, they’re going out the front and down the driveway. We parked two miles down, at the beginning of the grounds. Simon looks as if he’d keel over at any time. 

My soul feels as if it’s on fire. No doubt Abaddon’s doing. I don’t think I’m going to make it back from this one, but I don't regret my decision. As long as they can all get out before it’s all over, that’s what’s important. 

As long as Penny can get out of here. 

  
  


**BAZ**

I’ve never been this tired before. Exhaustion is slowly washing over me as I manage to kill another vampire, I leave my knife in his chest. (Is there a point of taking it out?) Fuck, how many have I slaughtered tonight? I’ve lost count, and I don’t want to think about it. 

There’s one more left, he’s on his knees, sobbing. He doesn’t want to die and I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want to keep doing this. 

Shepard is suddenly before me. He’s got tear tracks running through his soot-covered cheeks. He gives me a sad smile and reaches for my hand. I close my eyes and rest our palms together. He squeezes my fingers and I blink my eyes hard.

This isn’t how I wanted to go.


	16. Chapter 16

**SIMON**

Everything hurts so badly, I don’t understand why. 

I’m dizzy, and everything smells of smoke. The woods are on fire - again. Baz is in the middle of all of that. Did I leave Baz alone in the burning woods? No, no, he was crying, I couldn’t have left him. 

“Baz,” I say weakly, trying to push Penny and Agatha away from me is useless, I’m too weak. He’s in the woods, he’s in there and he’s going to burn and why isn’t anyone running in to get him?

“He’ll be fine!” Penny says, “Simon you have to keep walking!”

I’ve never turned my back on him. Never. I’m not about to start now.

  
  
  


**PENNY**

Simon is struggling to even walk, but he’s pulling away from us. 

“Baz!” His voice is a little stronger than before. 

“Simon!” Agatha is grabbing him back, “we have to go!”

“Not without Baz!” Simon snaps. He’s hunched forward, arms still wound around his torso, but his eyes are starting to glow and his skin is covered in almost gold static. His ring is glowing bright white.

“What the fuck?” Agatha asks, she looks over at me. 

Abaddon’s head appears over the trees and she roars. It’s high-pitched and guttural and it hurts the ears to hear. 

I try not to think about the fact that Shepard is in there. I can feel tears falling down my cheeks. Shepard is in the woods with the demon who cursed him, surrounded by fire. Baz is in the woods, surrounded by vampires and fire. 

  
  


**SIMON**

My bare feet are nearly dragging over dirt and gravel and concrete. It’s all disorienting. I don’t know where I am, it’s foggy. But I’m there with Penny and Agatha. Why are the three of us always in the middle of danger whenever the shit hits the fan? There’s fire everywhere and_ Baz is flammable_. The woods. The woods! I’m running - or trying to, my feet are clumsy and my stomach hurts and my head is spinning. But Baz is about to be lit on fire. Baz is going to go up in flames! My mouth is open, but what’s pouring out isn’t what I expected. 

"**In justice. In courage. In defense of the weak. In the face of the mighty. Through magic and wisdom and good**."

“Simon!” Penny says from my elbow. 

Penny and Agatha are crying for me, reaching for me, but I’ve already got a sword in each hand and I’m running. No. I’m flying. My wings - the ones that I had gotten removed - have burst out of my back and I’m soaring. 

It’s pitch black out, but the fire has it looking like midday. 

“Baz!” I’m screaming. Where is he? He’s here, he wouldn’t not be here. He has to be here. There! There! He’s with Shepard, they’re holding hands, facing one another. Accepting their fate. 

Fuck that. No, I refuse to allow him to die. Not after everything. No, I- 

The sixth white hare - Abaddon, the demon - roars and screeches and takes the shape of a deformed beast. Grotesque and reeking of burned flesh. Red eyes and fire on its teeth. I’ve spent my entire life fighting creatures bigger than me, sometimes stronger than me - I crash into her. 

“Simon!” Baz’s voice is loud, and he’s there. Quick, agile, graceful as fuck. 

“Baz!” I’m parrying and dodging, and it all hurts - everything hurts. 

Baz is covered in blood and other body substances. I can’t see too well, I’m too busy stabbing Abaddon with the Crystal Violin and slicing with the Sword of Mages. 

Abaddon got a good swipe at me and I go flying, my wings disappearing as I lose concentration. I expect this to be it. I’m probably going to die here. I’m probably going to be killed before I even get to slay the demon. My side hurts, my head is swimming and I’m dizzy. 

Cold arms catch me and we both grunted at the impact. But I don’t hit the ground.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” I demand as we both roll away from the giant stomping feet trying to step on us. 

“I’m not going to leave you, you fucking - **Can’t Touch This**!” Baz’s voice is clear as he casts the spell. His wand is held tightly in his left hand and we’re running together. Or, hobbling. I can’t run well, I’m too worn out to even pretend. 

Baz yanks me closer to him, and I just want to keel over at his feet. 

“**There’s Nothing To See Here**!” Baz snaps uselessly. I don’t think simple spells work. 

I’m panting and am putting all of my weight onto my knees, my body wants to curl inwards on itself. “How are we even going to fight her? I’m - I’m pretty fucked up.”

I glance up at Baz and realize just how wild he looks. His hair is a mane haloing his head and face, his fangs are out so his elocution is a little slurred, the smell of dried blood is pungent on him and I’d gag if I weren’t too busy trying to breathe. 

“Don’t suppose you’d know any spells?” Baz asks me before grabbing me again and pulling me away from a fireball that had been aimed directly at me. 

  
  


**PENNY**

I run into the woods, I don’t give a shit about leaving now. Not without everyone else. 

“God fucking damn it!” Agatha swears as she chases behind me. 

“**Make A Wish** !” I point my ring at the fire that was slowly spreading its fingers towards the house. There are piles of burnt clothes everywhere. “ **Out Like A Light**!” That spell is typically used for sleeping, but if said in just the right way it can be used to turn off lights or - in this case - flames. 

I can hear Agatha casting as well “**Ice Ice Baby**”, we’re probably not going to make it to Simon or Baz or Shepard. We’re probably fighting a fruitless battle against fire. Still, we go forward. 

“Can you control the flame?” I ask Agatha. It’s a stretch of a question, I know it as soon as I say it, but I have to ask. I think Baz can control the external flame, the Pitches and the Grimms both have the ability. 

“Fuck no,” Agatha says. The hopelessness in her tone makes me want to cry. “Fuck, Penny, we’re not going to make it out of here. **Make A Wish**!”

“Yes, we will!” I lie and continue to put out the fire. I can see Abaddon’s shape through all the smoke. She’s massive and white and stomping her humongous feet. “How did we kill the other white hares? Back at Watford?”

“Sheer luck,” Agatha says. 

“Well,” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”

Agatha snorts but keeps her opinion to herself. 

  
  


**SHEPARD**

I have my shirt wrapped around the lower portion of my face. The smoke is so dense that breathing is near impossible. I can hear Simon and Baz shouting, I can see Abaddon throwing fire, but everything is washed out and blurry. My eyes are tearing because I’ve been exposed to this for too long.

I cough hard into my shirt. I’m covered in soot and dirt and blood. It’s not the way I wanted to go, that’s for sure. 

The woods are a disorienting mess, how the hell do I get out of here? Not to abandon Simon or Baz, but there’s not much that I can do. Not against Abaddon. She’s had a mark on my soul for years and, apparently, there’s only one person who can end her. The person who can wield the holy sword. 

I’m wandering away from the carnage, gasping for breath and praying for clean air. 

  
  


**AGATHA**

We’re fucked. There is no way around it, we’re fucked. I thought we were fucked before, but vampires are nothing compared to an actual demon. 

“Shepard!” Penny cries as we run into him. 

We’ve been cleaning the air and putting out fires as we’ve gone deeper into the woods. Our magic is depleting rapidly. 

Shepard looks like shit. We probably all do. 

“Simon and Baz?” Penny asks him once she’s satisfied that he’s not going to drop dead. She doesn’t bother using magic to clean him up, she knows that we both have limited supplies. 

Shepard licks at his chapped lips and points behind him, “through there.”

“Let’s go!” Penny says. 

“What are we going to do when we get there?” I ask, but I follow her anyway. Shepard is in step with me as we stumble our way into the fray. 

“We’re going to make Simon go off!” Penny says. 

“You’re insane!” I say to her. 

“I know!” Penny says, but there’s a dangerous smile on her face. 

  
  


**BAZ**

I’m practically dragging Simon to and fro. We’re weaving through trees as I throw useless spell after useless spell. There must be something that I can do. Preferably a bible verse. I’m tired, exhausted to the bone and one step away from welcoming the fire that’s been threatening to engulf us.

It would be easier if both Simon and I say the prayer - it would be better with a bloody coven of mages (it won’t have much effect with only the two of us). 

I’m starting to feel drained. I’m a powerful mage, but I only have so much magic. 

“Baz - ” Simon starts, only to be cut off by Penelope, Agatha, and Shepard nearly running into us. 

“We’ve got to make Simon go off!” Penny says hurriedly. 

We’re hiding behind dense trees, though I doubt our location will be safe for much longer. It’s been an endless game of cat and mouse between us and Abaddon. We’d scurry out, attack, and scurry back before she could get a proper hit on us. She’s too large for us to do much else, and Simon is injured.

“No,” I say, “that won’t work. Do any of you know the Lord’s Prayer? We can -”

“Share the magic!” Penny finished my sentence. “But will we have enough?”

Simon suddenly tackles us to the ground in time to prevent us from behind hit by a falling tree. His tackle takes me off guard, and it’s a good thing that it did, otherwise, I’m an immovable force. 

Abaddon roars viciously. It rattles my teeth and my fangs refuse to retract. It’s a sound that hurts to listen to.

“Fuck,” Simon hisses. The Sword of Mages vanishes from his grip and the Crystal Violin turns back into a ring as he holds onto his side. “Whatever we’re going to do, let’s just fucking do it.”

And then, this courageous fuck stumbles his way out of the brush and directly into the path of danger. 

**SIMON**

I open my mouth to say something to Abaddon, anything, when cool fingers suddenly press against my own. Grip tight and secure, fingertips calloused. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Baz growls as Agatha takes his other hand and Penny takes Agatha’s. 

Time seems to slow down as I feel Baz’s magic suddenly caress against my own. It’s hot, like molten lava, a contrast to his cold skin. I can taste cedar and fire and I can’t tell which magic is mine and which is his. I push back at him and we’re a tide, rising and falling. His cedar is suddenly infused with heavy, cloying, sage and soft, sweet, cinnamon. It all tastes like smoke in the back of my throat. 

The magic is strong, it crests, it reminds me of ocean waves, and I’m the shore on which it’s lapping. And yet, their magic isn’t enough, it’s not. I was once full of all the magic in the world, I know that this is just a small drop. 

Penny once said that drawing her magic was like pulling water from a well, Agatha had said it was like flexing a muscle you don't use often, Baz said it was lighting a match or pulling a trigger. But that’s not how it is now. 

Drawing upon it, and conjuring my magic - it feels like static. Like summoning lightning from the clouds. It’s like trying to catch a falling star with your hands. My magic feels like the sun. I am a supernova, but it’s not all-consuming. It’s manageable, it’s powerful, it’s all mine.

I push it and the other’s all flinch. 

I blink and realize that I had closed my eyes. The forest fire had gone out, the air is clear, and the sky is filled with stars. I feel my right-hand tingle where the Crystal Violin rests on my finger.

“Oi!” I bellow up at Abaddon. Her ruby red gaze focuses on me and she hisses. I’m in nothing but my jeans, dirty and bloody and barefoot. I’m hurt, I’m tired, I could sleep for a million years. 

“**Our Father**,” I start, my voice is strong. I know the prayer from childhood, from one of the many group homes that I had been shuffled to. It’s the only prayer that I remember, I used to have to do it every night with over a dozen other children. Kneeling on the floor by our cots.

Baz tightens his grip and suddenly - suddenly - the magic is almost too much.

“**In heaven, hallowed be your name**,” our words are in sync. Our voices are loud. Even Shepard, who is standing a ways behind us, is praying. Prayer is one of the strongest forms of magic. Using verses from the bible is tricky - dangerous, stupid. But it’s dead useful when fighting against a demon. 

At least, I hope so. I’ve never actually fought a bloody demon before. (Helping Micah perform an exorcism in our fourth year doesn’t count, does it? It only made us aware of how real demons were.)

“**Your kingdom come, your will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven**.”

My ring glows so brightly that we’re engulfed in it. Abaddon is throwing fire at us, but it’s not penetrating through whatever is shielding us. My hand is suddenly holding a wand, and I’m pointing it at Abaddon. 

The wind is picking up around us. Abaddon is trying to charge at us, trying to stomp at us, but she can’t touch us. The magic is swelling, I feel as if I’m being filled to the brim. Like a cup of water that’s about to overflow.

“**Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.**”

Slowly I can feel as the magic begins to recede. They’re going out. The cinnamon from Agatha is the first to go. I push more of myself into it, my wand hand is wavering. Penny’s sage is next, but I can feel it's stubborn refusal to go out. It leaves a powerful aftertaste. 

We’ve remained a chain, even though it’s just Baz and I. Our combined fires, our magic dancing and pulsing and Baz is holding on to my hand tight enough to possibly break it. 

“**And lead us not into temptation**.”

I give my magic one final _ shove _.

“**But deliver us from evil.**”

And then the world explodes.


	17. Chapter 17

**PENNY**

I wake to the sound of murmuring voices and blink up at the bright ceiling tile. My vision is blurry because I don’t have my glasses on. I’m on a bed, there are sheets draped over me and I can hear my mum and dad arguing in harsh whispers. 

“What?” I ask, but I’m groggy. What happened? We were just at Pitch Manor, everything was going to shit. My head hurts too much to try and focus on anything. 

“Penelope!” Mum is at my side in an instant. Her hand his caressing my hair off of my forehead. 

“You gave us quite a scare,” Dad says from beside her. 

I’m squinting at them, “where am I?”

“A Coven medical center,” Dad answers. 

“Penny, what happened?” Mum asks, “when we got to Pitch Manor all we found were the remains of the NowNext and half the woods by the house burnt to ash.” 

“The woods?” I ask and then sit up, which causes the world to tilt and I flopped back onto the bed. “Crowley!”

“You’re heavily medicated,” Mum says. 

“Where’s Shepard? Baz? Where’s Agatha and Simon?” I ask although I keep my eyes closed because the world is spinning too much for me to focus correctly. “Where are my glasses?”

“They’re in their own rooms,” Mum answers. 

Dad places my glasses on my face for me. 

“Do you remember any of it?” Dad asks me, his voice softer than mums. 

I try not to think about the fact that Shepard and Simon are both in their own rooms, likely alone. Neither of them has family, Shepard’s are all in America, and Simon is, well, Simon. 

I don’t want to tell my parents that I remember Baz ripping a vampire’s throat out with his teeth. Or Simon fucking exploding. That’s what happened, wasn’t it? He went off. Simon Snow is still the most powerful mage to ever live, but I won’t say a word about it. 

“I -” I lick my lips (I’m so thirsty) and attempt to shake my head but stop when I realize what a bad idea that is. “No, I remember going into the manor, but I don’t remember leaving.” It’s only a partial lie. “Are we going to be under investigation?”

Mum is smoothing my hair again, “Penelope, we found a lot of the Next Blood’s data and research, and everything they did to Simon.”

My eyes fly open and I look at my mother, “what did you find?”

Her and Dad exchange a look. That’s how I know whatever they’re going to say is something that I’ll need to brace myself with. 

“They found Simon’s family.” 

  
  


**AGATHA**

Mother is humming, an old lullaby that she used to sing to me when I was small and sick or scared. Something to help me sleep. It’s working now, it keeps me relaxed. I’m drugged, my head feels sluggish and my eyelids are heavier than they ought to be. 

I don’t want to wake up yet, I’m cozy, and when was the last time that my mum hummed to me? When was the last time that I allowed her to be so close to me like this to do it?

I sigh and fall back into an easy sleep, with very little worries. 

  
  


**SHEPARD**

I am in pain. I’ve burns on my hands and arms, some on my legs. There are various Talkers performing healing spells on me, and the spells are taking - thankfully. I suppose that answers my question on whether I was still cursed or not. I’m obviously in some sort of magical hospital, but I’m alone. My room is small, enough space for the bed and maybe two chairs. No windows. It reminds me of a hospital room in a horror film.

Everyone’s been kind though, and it hasn’t been too bad. I kind of wish my mom and dad were here, or even my brother. Anyone. I didn’t realize how alone I was before. I wonder if anyone called my parents. 

Mitali Bunce comes into the room well after I’ve woken up. A nurse (I’m not even sure if I should call her that, she wasn’t wearing scrubs or had an ID or anything) gave me a book so that I would have something to do. It’s not a bad book. It’s a romance about a dragon and a prince - pretty sure it’s gay erotica, but I’m not going to judge. 

“How’s Penny?” I ask her as soon as she comes in. “What about everyone else? Everyone alive and well?”

Mitali shakes her head at me but she has a fond expression on her face, “you and my daughter are the same.”

I want to correct her. I want to tell her that Penny is a tornado and I’m a storm chaser. That she’s a force to be reckoned with and I’m just along for the ride. I don’t tell her this, because who says that to their romantic interests parents? I’m weird, but I’m not that weird. 

“Everyone is fine,” Mitali says, “how are you feeling? The medics said that your curse has been lifted.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “it’s weird. I mean, I’m in pain, because - burns. Otherwise, I feel really good. Better than I have in a while. How did ya’ll find us? I mean, me and Baz were in the woods, we were kind of prepared to go up in smoke.”

“Magic,” Mitali says. 

I nod, “yeah, that makes sense. Hey, so, the morphine they gave me seems to be working,” I say while tugging gently at the IV drip beside me. I’m lethargic, and the book I’m reading is good, but everything is starting to blur together. “I think I’m going to sleep soon.”

“Of course,” Mitali smiles at me, “would you like me to stay with you until you do?”

The lump in my throat is no surprise. I swallow it and nod, “yeah, yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

**BAZ**

“They found out that magic doesn’t work well with the vampire virus,” Fiona is telling me. She’s leaning back in her visiting chair, legs crossed languidly and arms folded. She got back to England early this morning, she looks like shit, but she came straight here from what I can tell. 

My Father flinches from my other side. His face is drawn. I had woken up to him holding onto my hand, his warm hands squeezing my fingers and his thumb rubbing soothing circles across my knuckles. I don’t remember the last time Father even touched me. He must have thought that I was going to die. 

“What do you mean?” I ask. My head is throbbing, the medication they attempted to give me didn’t work, and I have lumps from where my hair was yanked. No bald patches, thank Merlin. “Are you saying that magic fights the virus?”

“Well, it explains how you’ve aged,” Fiona says, although I can tell she wants to add more. Probably how Nicodemus has aged too. “Theoretically, if you were to be flooded with enough magic, you can be cured.”

Father takes a sharp breath and he’s leaning forward, closer to me. “How? How is that possible?”

“Not sure,” Fiona says, “the Coven says that they want to continue the research on it. Dr. Wellbelove has agreed to be on the team. We might be able to cure vampirism, that’s amazing, isn’t it?”

I don’t think I’d want to be cured if there was one found. Being a vampire has kept me alive better than being a mage has in recent events. If I had been human I would have died. I don’t even remember what being human is like, and I doubt any of the older vampires would want to revert to what’s essentially a weaker species. 

“Has Snow woken up yet?” I ask Fiona. 

She and Father exchange a glance that I don’t feel like interpreting. 

“Ah, about the Chosen One,” Fiona stops and thinks about her next words. I hate when she does this, I wish she would get on with it already. I think she does it for the drama, Fiona is too smart to need to pause her sentences like this. “They found his family.”

“Crowley,” I breathe. We had thought that this would happen, I only hope that whatever the NowNext managed to find out with whatever they got from Simon stays in England. I can’t imagine what would happen if it were to go back to America. Even the fact that magic can be used as a cure, imagine the vampires who do want to be human again? Either way, mages are in danger. 

“Yeah,” Fiona says, “they contacted her, she’s sitting with him right now.”

I sneer at that, “oh yes, let a stranger sit with him while he’s in a vulnerable state. That is exactly what the Coven should do.”

“Basilton,” Father’s tone is one of warning. I can already hear his words - on how Simon isn’t family. How we shouldn’t have to worry about him when we have our own to deal with. “Daphne is with them.”

I snap my gaze over to him, “oh?”

He nods but says no more on the matter. I feel a surge of unexpected warmth and love towards my family then. They’re annoying, but they care. 

“Who is Snow’s next of kin?” I ask Fiona because I can’t help it. I don’t know when I’ll be allowed to leave this bloody hospital room and I want to know. I want to know so that when Simon wakes up he’ll have someone he trusts to be able to talk to him about it. 

Fiona leans forward, “well, I can tell you who his parents were and we can go from there.”

Socratic method. Of bloody course. 

“Who were his parents?”

“David Llewellyn-”

“_ What _?”

“And Lucy Salisbury.”

The Mage? The Mage was Simon’s father? Simon killed his father - technically it was Penelope - but still! That man put him in a care home every fucking summer. 

I swallow down my rage and force myself to remain composed, “so that means that Lady Ruth Salisbury and her son Oliver are Simon’s next of kin.”

“Bingo.”

**RUTH**

He’s fast asleep, he looks like my late husband. My daughter’s son, Simon Snow Salisbury (as far as I’m aware, Lucy never married Davy, and it would be over my dead body that I would give my grandson the last name Llewellyn over Salisbury). When I was first called I had thought it was a prank. Dr. Wellbelove’s voice was soothing and calm, explaining what the DNA results were to me and saying that the Coven would appreciate it if I came. It was nearly seven in the morning when they rang, but I woke up Oliver and dressed and came right away. 

My daughter is dead. There’s no proof, but I know that she is. She would have never given her child up. She would have kept him, she would have wanted him and loved him. I don’t think of David Llewellyn, the man who is probably the cause of my daughter's death. 

Oliver is beside me, fiddling with his cell phone. Across from us, on the other side of the bed, sits Daphne Grimm. I found it odd when I walked into the room and saw her there. She’s a sweet girl, but she stubbornly refused to leave. Eventually, Mitali Bunce joins us, and the room feels cramped and overcrowded - which it is. 

Mitali, Lucy’s best friend from childhood. Mitali, who’s daughter is my grandson’s best friend. Who has gotten to be more a part of his life than I have.

I look back down at Simon. I had met him twice before when he was a boy. Both times I was taken aback by how similar Simon looked to my son when he was a child. Only Simon was rounder, with curlier hair and broader shoulders. Simon was Lucy through and through. He’s got the same smattering of freckles, he’s got the same moles. I was blind to not take into consideration the startling similarities. 

Mitali had told me that he was going to be twenty-four soon, the day of the Mid-Summer Gala. Twenty-four. I missed out on my own grandson’s entire childhood, he’s a man now, and he may not want anything to do with me. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. It would hurt, it would break my heart, but I don’t want to scare him off. I can only imagine what he’s been through, being shuffled from foster home to group home his entire life. Being forced to become his own father’s weapon. Never receiving as much as he truly deserved. I could have raised him, I could have given him a good life. I would have loved him just as fiercely as his mother had. 

“Would anyone like some tea?” Oliver is standing, we had been waiting for Simon to wake up for nearly two hours now. “Or coffee?”

“I’ll go get some with you,” Mitali says. Both myself and Daphne decline. 

I have yet to avert my gaze from the boy on the bed before me. They told me that he was kidnapped by vampires and had been held in captivity for a week. They told me that they did experiments on him, on his blood, on his magic. It was the only way that our link was found out. 

“Mrs. Grimm,” I say and briefly look over at her. Her brown eyes are watching me. “May I inquire, what is your relationship with Simon? I understand Mitali coming in to check on him, but I can’t seem to understand your connection.”

Daphne smiles and it’s warm, sweet, “I’m here because it’s what Basilton would have wanted.”

Basilton, her stepson. He’s a pleasant young man, dangerously handsome, charming, graceful, elegant, and as gay as a maypole. 

“Oh,” I say because suddenly I understand. “How long have they been together?”

“I can’t tell you,” Daphne still has that same smile on her face, “Basil is private when it comes to matters of the heart, but I do know that they’re close.”

I nod. It’s none of my business. 

“He looks so much like my husband,” I say to Daphne because I have nothing else to say. It’s the truth, it’s an observation that I’ve had on the tip of my tongue since I spied him lying on the bed. “I wish I would have known about him sooner.”

Daphne opens her mouth to say something but stops when Simon begins to stir. 

His eyes are the same shade of blue as Lucy’s. Bright as the summer sky. He blinks a few times, disoriented. He gives me a confused look, and I can’t blame him, he doesn’t know me. He then sweeps his eyes across the room before they land on Daphne. “Mrs. Grimm.”

Daphne leans forward and places a dainty hand on Simon’s forearm, “how are you feeling, Simon?”

He swallows, his throat is long so his swallow is showy as his Adam's apple bobs with the effort. “Baz?”

She and I exchange a smile before she focuses her brown eyes down at Simon, “he’s alright. He’s resting in another room.”

Simon makes to sit but it’s an effort. He was in poor shape, it took a lot more magic to fix him up than Dr. Wellbelove was pleased to use. Somehow he manages, panting with exertion as he does so. “Penny and the other’s are safe?”

“Yes,” Daphne says. 

Simon nods, his curls are a mess from where he’s been lying down, I want to smooth them down for him but hold myself back. I have no right to do so. “Can I see Baz?”

“Let me see if he’s able to walk to you, alright?” Daphne says in a soft voice. The type reserved for small children who are being disagreeable. Non-confrontational and smooth, “this is Lady Salisbury, she’ll stay with you until I come back.”

Simon nods and watches as Daphne leaves before turning to me, “hello.” But it comes out as ‘hullo’, his accent thick. 

“Hello, Simon,” I greet him. 

“We’ve met before, yeah?” Simon asks, “Christmas?” 

I nod, “yes, we have.” 

“Why are you here?” His face colors as he seems to hear exactly what he says, “I mean, why are you in my room and not visiting someone else? I mean, merlin, I’m shit with words. Sorry! I mean, yeah, why are you here?” He’s nearly a full bluster now. 

“Let me help you fix your pillows so that you can sit up comfortably,” I say and help him lean forward before doing just that, “you’re in a medical facility run by the Coven. Coven members found you and your friends at Pitch Manor early this morning in what appeared to be a detonation site. They found over a dozen vampire remains on site, and several in the woods. You were kidnapped nearly a week ago and had been held there before your friends helped you escape. Does any of this sound familiar to you?”

“Vaguely,” Simon says. “Oh fuck, my job. I’m probably fired by now. Ah, sorry, for the swearing.”

I raise my eyebrows at him, “your job is fine, last I checked. The club owner is cousins with a Coven member.”

Simon gapes at me, “seriously?”

His voice is lighter than I would imagine it would be. Soft. He swallows again before looking down at his hands, which are folded on top of his sheets, over his lap. 

I want to say _ more _to him but his door opens again and Oliver returns with two cups of tea. 

“This is my son, Oliver,” I tell Simon. 

“Oh,” Oliver says as he takes Simon in. “Would you like some tea?” He asks, practically handing Simon his styrofoam cup. 

“Oh, er, thank you?” Simon says, but he takes a tentative sip. Dr. Wellbelove is going to want to have a look at him, they said that he had a feeding tube in for the last week, I can only imagine what damage that did to him. He looks so thin. 

The door opens a second time and in walks Basilton Grimm-Pitch, in a plain t-shirt and pajama bottoms and scuffed trainers. He pauses, gray eyes taking in me and my son, his expression guarded. Then he shifts his gaze over to Simon and his harsh mask melts. 

“_Snow_,” he breathes, and there is so much reverence in his tone. It was not meant for me or Oliver to hear. 

I stand up, “well, we’ll be in the Bunce’s room, visiting. If you need us.”

Oliver follows behind me, but Simon and Basilton are too absorbed in each other to care. 

“You’re not going to tell him?” Oliver asks me once we’ve closed the door behind us. 

I shake my head, “not yet, now isn’t the right time for it.”

  
  


**SIMON**

Baz’s hands are cool, he’s cupping my jaw, his fingers are pressed against my temples, his eyes are wet. “Fuck, Simon.”

Our foreheads are pressed together. I can feel tears fall from my lashes and hit his cheeks, “I love you.”

“Fuck,” Baz chokes, “I love you too. You have no idea, you have no idea.”

Only, I think I kind of do.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update!
> 
> **Warning: This chapter has sex.**

**AGATHA **

It's early Saturday evening when my parents bring me home. I almost don't know what to do with myself. I could sleep more, I slept nearly all day. I should eat something, but that feels like too much of an effort. I text Ginger, asking her to send me photos of Lucy.

It makes me think of human Lucy. Simon's mum. I should give him that photo I have of the Mage and her together in their Watford uniforms. I still have it. It may be the only photo he'd ever have of his parents together. He may want it one day. I'll ask him when I get the chance.

There's a knock on my bedroom door and my Mother opens it before I answer her. In her arms is a dress still in the plastic covering, it's hanger the only thing peeking out. 

“I know you may not stay now since the vampires were handled, but your gown came in,” she says.

The twenty vampires were handled by 4 people unable to use magic with barely any combined experience. And a demon that wanted to kill us all. It was sheer dumb luck that we all survived. Luck and Simon's magic. I'd have to ask Penny about that. 

“Oh,” I say, remembering why we went dress shopping, “the gala. No, I'll stay for that. I want to go.”

Mum gives me a surprised smile. She's relieved that I'm staying for a little longer. I suppose she missed me more than she let on. 

I missed her and dad a lot too.

  
  
  


**PENNY**

“You should be resting,” I feel like I’m nagging, but I can’t help it. Simon is still packing an overnight bag. It’s Saturday night and he doesn’t have to go back to work until Tuesday, so he’s going to stay with Baz. He’s malnourished and is on a diet of soft foods for now until he can get his body back onto solids. 

Simon smiles at me, “I will be resting.”

“Shagging is not resting,” I say. I’m pleased when his face becomes blotched with a blush. 

“Penelope!” Simon gasps, “we haven’t done more than kiss, thank you very much. I am not that type of man.”

We both laugh at that, and it feels good. All of this feels so good, we’re all safe and in one piece and incredibly lucky. We’re so lucky. I reach out and touch Simon’s forearm, and he pauses to look at me. 

“Come on, Pen,” Simon’s smile is soft, “don’t.”

“I just,” I can feel my eyes heat up with unshed tears. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, but I’ve been sick with worry over him. I thought the worst, that something had finally killed him. 

Simon engulfs me in a tight, brief, hug. He pulls away slowly and shakes his head. I only nod at him, we’re not going to talk about it. I’m fine with that, as long as he talks to someone else - preferably his therapist - then it’s alright. 

“Have fun taking care of Shepard,” Simon says. He’s glancing down at his phone, “Baz is waiting downstairs.”

“He could come up,” I say. 

“He says there’s no parking and he’s double-parked,” Simon says while texting a response to Basil. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

I watch him go. Shepard is lying on the sofa, watching Downton Abbey reruns. He’s fully healed, magic worked well against the burns. His mark is gone, and he keeps touching his arm as if he can’t fully comprehend it. He’ll probably be doing that for a while. I thought Shepard was going to die, I thought Baz was going to die. I thought we weren’t going to make it out of there. We went in with a hair-brained plan and somehow managed to escape it. 

Simon had gone off. He had lit up brighter than the fireworks on New Year's Eve and he had used his holy sword and he had slain the demon. The force of his magic caused the rest of us to be thrown off of our feet. I double-checked with Dad though, and there aren’t any new holes. All of the holes are now properly closed. That was Simon without the excess, that was Simon’s magic all on its own. He’s still the most powerful mage to ever exist. It’s a little terrifying, and I don’t think he knows it yet - I haven’t told him. I will tell him, soon, probably on Monday when he comes back from nesting at Baz’s. 

“Want to get pizza?” Shepard asks me as I take the armchair to watch the show with him. It’s an incredibly domestic ritual that we have. I sort of love it. 

“Actually,” I say, not taking my eyes off the television, “I want to find out who those three demon’s you owe your firstborn child are.”

I watch from the corner of my vision as his brown eyes snap over to me and he sits up a bit. He’s trying not to smile, but he’s doing a poor job of it. He’s much too open about his emotions. “Do you?”

“You’re terrible at playing coy,” I say. 

This causes Shepard to grin broadly at me, and not for the first time I ask myself what exactly I see in him. I keep my mouth a firm line, but that just makes him smile bigger. He has a lovely smile, with a single dimple on his left cheek. It makes his face scrunch up and his eyes warm. (I suppose he’s handsome, I’ll give him that.)

“Two of them are in America,” Shepard says. 

“Then I suppose we’re going to America,” I say, “it’s just as well. I’ve been wanting to meet your family in person for a while now.” I’ve spoken to his mother and brother over the phone, but to officially meet them will be nice. 

“You haven’t even asked me on a first date yet,” Shepard points out, but he’s too amused to bother sounding annoyed. 

“Do you mean to tell me that we haven’t been courting these last few years?” I arch a brow at him. 

“That’s beside the point,” Shepard laughs now. It’s usually contagious, it makes me giggle as well. “But fine, I guess I can ask you. Penelope Bunce, would you like to go on a real date with me?”

I finally look at him and can’t stop the pleased smile that makes its way across my face, “I’d love to.”

  
  
  


**SIMON**

There’s something not right, it’s a heat my belly that I can’t quite shake off. It’s been there ever since I fought Abaddon. I remember it, every detail. The flames and the Crystal Violin in one hand, and the Sword of Mages in the other. 

I ran towards the giant fucking white hare as it loomed over Shepard and Baz, as its mouth began to fill with flames while reciting the incantation that I’ve had memorized since I was eleven years old. "**In justice. In courage. In defense of the weak. In the face of the mighty. Through magic and wisdom and good.**"

Baz said that I glowed, that my eyes were electric blue and that my entire body shone so brightly that no one could see what I was doing. For everyone else, it felt like an explosion. Not for me, things happened a bit differently from my perspective. The scream that Abaddon made as I killed her is something that will probably haunt me for the rest of my life, just another layer to add to my nightmares. 

It’s magic, the heat in my belly. It’s my magic, what I was always meant to have. I shake my head, Baz told me that the Next Blood took a sample of my DNA. They ran it through a database, they found my family. _I have a family_. I didn’t want to hear the rest of it, I didn’t want to know. I don’t know if I want to know, I don’t know what I would do with this information. What if my parents purposely gave me up because they didn’t want me? What will finding my blood relations do for me?

I don’t want to think about it. 

Instead, I focus on Baz, he’s curled up tightly next to me, his long cool fingers are underneath my t-shirt, resting on my belly. The last time we were on this sofa, we had taken almost all of our clothes off. We would have had sex, I do not doubt it, it was getting to that point until Fiona walked in. Talk about mortifying. 

Baz smells of cedar and I can’t help but inhale it deeply. I’ve missed his scent when we were apart. I’ve missed him, in general, of course. His snark, his sneer, his nasty sense of humor. Those are poor examples, but it’s the truth, I’ve missed him. 

Baz is my family, him and Penny and Agatha and Shepard. They’re the little family that I’ve managed to carve for myself. We can get on each other’s nerves, we can disagree, we can fuck off away from each other. Sometimes we hate each other, but still, we love each other. 

I’m too into my head that when Baz pinches my nipple I yelp loudly. 

“What the fuck, Pitch?” I growl, slapping at the hand that’s underneath my shirt and trying to twist away from him at the same time. 

“You’ve been thinking so hard that smoke was beginning to come out of your ears,” Baz says. “I’ve asked you the same question twice now, pay better attention and I won’t be forced to resort to physical violence.” 

“What’s the question?” I ask him, trying to ignore how his fingers are circling my nipple softly. Causing it to pebble and this strange tingling pleasure to course down the left side of my body.

“Nothing now,” Baz says. 

He’s turning so that he can place both of his hands under my shirt now. I watch him as he slowly pulls my t-shirt up over my stomach and further until it’s off completely. I’m not pleased with my body, a week of inactivity has not done me well. I’ve gotten softer and thinner, but I can’t possibly go back to the gym any time soon. I’ll need to recover first and probably start CrossFit all over again to regain my initial stamina. 

“Baz?” I ask as his hands began to roam my torso. He hasn’t kissed me yet, but he will soon.

“Yes?” His gaze meets mine. His pupils are wide and he’s looking at me as if I’m his favorite food. 

“Um,” I wet my lips and he follows the movement of my tongue. Crowley. “Are we, uh. Are we exclusive?” I feel stupid for asking it, we’ve told each other that we loved each other - twice. Still, to quell my insecurities, I have to ask.

Baz pulls away from me then, his brows furrowed. “Do you not want to be?”

“What?” I say, “I do! I just wanted to make sure that you do too!”

“I thought we already were,” Baz says. “Have you been seeing other people?”

“What? No! Have you?” I ask him. Out of the two of us, I’m certain that it would be him with romantic interests lining up. I can imagine, I’m number 61 on his list of romantic prospects. I can already picture him with reading glasses on the bridge of his nose as he goes down a checklist and realizes as he weighs and measures me that he finds me wanting. 

“No,” Baz looks offended. “Crowley, Snow. Why would I want to date anyone else when I can have you?”

My heart is thudding loudly, I swallow uselessly and nod. “I just, I just needed to make sure.”

Because, despite being better - and I am better - I’m still really fucked up.

“Simon,” Baz’s face softens. He’s leaning forward and kisses me. Gentle, barely a press of our mouths, it leaves me yearning for more. When he pulls away he kisses my temple and seems to breathe me in. “I only have, and only will ever, want you. I’ll forever choose you.”

How does one respond to that? How can I even articulate my feelings correctly after hearing him say that? He’ll always choose me. I’m his chosen one. 

Instead, I grab him by the nape of his neck and pull him into a hard kiss.

  
  
  
  


**BAZ**

This time we make it to my bedroom once we’re in nothing but our pants. Simon pushes me down onto the mattress and I laugh as I bounce a little. He’s grinning down at me before crawling on top of me. 

I think of our first kiss. Of that first night of kisses. He’s making me reach up to meet him, and I do, I always will. For as long as he’ll have me. 

His body is warm, and I’m glad that he’s on top of me. He’s keeping me warm too. 

Simon presses his entire body down onto me, draping himself across me and causing me to moan at the skin to skin contact. My hands are in his curls, tugging as he pulls away and begins to pepper kisses down the column of my neck. He sucks and bites, but no mark is going to stay - vampires aren’t able to have hickeys. 

Still, it feels good. 

“How far do you want to go?” Simon asks me before licking at my collarbone. 

I’m already half-hard, just from our over-exuberant snogging. He is too, I can feel him against my thigh. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I say. 

It’s the truth, I don’t care how far we go. I’m not going to push him into anything he’s not comfortable with, and I’m not going to ask for more than what he’s willing to give me. I want everything, of course, I’m selfish. I want Simon, in every way possible. I want us to be together forever, until the end of time. Until death, after death. I want us to be in the afterlife together. To find each other in our next life and be happy. 

Simon is it for me. Even if I hadn’t imprinted on him, even without the vampire aspect to it, I’d choose him. I hope that he’d always choose me too. I do not doubt that he would, he says that he loves me, that he’s always loved me. We’ll need more than love for our relationship to survive this time around, but it’s a good start. 

“Can I suck you off?” Simon asks me, and my brain nearly short circuits. 

I gasp as Simon grinds down against my pelvis. It’s a pleasurable friction that causes me to hiss. “If you’d like.”

“Basilton,” Simon is grinning again. He’s as bright as the sun, but I’d gladly burn for him. His eyes are as blue as the summer sky, and right now they’re warm as they peer down at me. “‘Yes’ or `no’.”

“Simon,” I sigh as he licks at my nipples, still grinding down on me. I could probably come from this, the feel of him under my hand. Firm and hot. His shoulders are dusted in freckles, his back has some moles and the thin scars from where his wings and tail once were. “Do whatever you want to me.”

The smile he gives me causes me to curl my toes. It’s full of sinful promises, and I want nothing more than to find out what that entails. 

  
  
  


**SIMON**

Baz is lovely. He’s beautiful, I know that most people wouldn’t consider a man beautiful - handsome is the terminology that’s often used. But Baz is beautiful. He’s long lines and elegance. I could spend an eternity staring at Baz, watching how he moves (graceful) and listening to how he talks (immaculate) and won’t be content. I’d need more time. 

An eternity with Baz sounds too good to be true. Instead, I need to focus on what’s going on now.

My hand has found its way underneath the band of Baz’s pants, I’m slowly stroking his cock, running my thumb over the damp tip with every twist upwards. Baz is moaning into my mouth as I kiss him. There are so many things that I want to do to him. So many things that I want him to do to me. 

His fingers are butterfly touches up and down my back and are making me shiver. 

Our tongues touch, moving together perfectly synchronized. We've pressed so hard together that our teeth clink a few times. 

There are so many things that I want, but at the top of my list is kissing him. I love kissing Baz (I think it’s because I love Baz). When we finally pull apart, I maintain eye contact with him as I kiss my way down his body. 

His breathing is becoming harsher as he watches me leave open-mouthed kisses down his belly and on his hip bone. I nip him there and grin as I take the band of his pants and slowly pull them off of him. 

I’ve seen Baz naked before, but the years have continued to be generous to him. He looks fucking amazing. 

“Fuck,” I breathe as I take him in. 

Baz gives me a cheeky grin and I roll my eyes at him before kneeling between his legs and swallowing his cock down as far as I could go. 

  
  
  


**BAZ**

Simon Snow’s mouth was made for sucking cock. I sigh and sink further into the mattress. He hums around me and my eyes flutter shut, he’s massaging my bollocks and somehow is using the right amount of pressure that makes it all feel so good.

His tongue curls at my frenulum as he sucks the head, his hands massage and he twists his wrists _just so_. Fuck, this is the best oral that I have ever received.

I open my eyes to watch him and my heart jolts when I realize that he’s been watching me the entire time. He holds my gaze as he sinks his mouth back down, hollowing his cheeks and allowing saliva to drip. My hand pets at his hair, fingers entwined in his soft curls. 

Simon hums as if he’s enjoying himself immensely, and it causes me to shiver. I’m not sure how long we’re like this, him watching my face and me watching him go down on me. It’s hypnotizing. Time melts away and all that I can focus on is the wet heat of Simon’s mouth, the drag of his tongue, the tightness of his cheeks when he sucks hard. He’s been gradually sucking harder and harder the longer this goes on. I think he wants to get me off, I think he wants me to come. 

“Fuck,” I whimper, my hips begin to twitch into half-aborted thrusts up into his mouth. 

“Mmmmmmm,” Simon’s eyes flutter shut as he moves with me, allowing me to fuck his mouth. 

I bring a fist to my mouth and bite down on my knuckles. The sight is incredibly erotic. 

I groan, which causes Simon to groan, and it’s a never-ending cycle of pleasure. 

  
  
  


**SIMON**

My tongue presses firmly against the slit of Baz’s cock’s head, and the saltiness that it’s met with reminds me of butter. I twirl my tongue around the head again, pressing firmly on his frenulum and sucking as hard as I possibly can as he thrusts up. 

The smell of his sex is causing me to become lightheaded. The heady musk that’s pure Baz. 

His hands are knotted into my hair, pulling and pushing me to the rhythm that he wants. I’m allowing him to fuck my face, remaining mindful of my teeth as I drool all over his lap. I didn’t know I’d love this so much. Admittedly, I had no clue what I was doing when I decided to suck him off. I’ve only done this once with him, and that was years ago. I had an idea of how to go about it, but I hadn’t a clue how much he’d enjoy this. How much I would enjoy this. 

I’m moaning with every one of his thrusts, keeping my hands on his hips to prevent him from gagging me. But Baz, despite being in the throes of passion, is still in control. 

“Simon,” his voice is high and pleading, “love, I’m going to come.”

My grip on his hips tighten. I don’t want him to pull off. I hum again and his hips begin to stutter. 

“Oh fuck,” Baz whines. 

His breathing is harsh and his hips are picking up the pace. I begin to massage his bollocks again. I’ve drool coming down my chin and onto my chest, it’s all so excessive. I keep my eyes on Baz’s face and watch as it contorts in pleasure. 

Yes, that’s right, come on Baz. 

“Nngh,” his head is tilted back and his body begins to shudder and my mouth is filled with the taste of his orgasm. The tangy saltiness that I swallow down. I stay and let him ride through it, I keep going until Baz is whimpering and begging me to pop off. 

  
  


**BAZ**

His mouth is swollen, his chin and chest are shiny with saliva and cum. His hair is fucked, a nest of curls that have seen better days. 

“Was that okay?” Simon’s voice is hoarse, and his cheeks are a fierce red. 

I’m panting and nodding, before pulling him down onto the mattress beside me and rolling to be on top of him. I make sure to stay gentle, mindful of the fact that he’s still recovering. I kiss him sloppily and then lean back to strip him naked. 

"Is this alright?" I ask him as I hover over him.

He's gorgeous, flushed and shimmering. My personal sunlight. "_Yes_."

“Good, because now it’s my turn.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 more chapter left!

**SIMON**

It’s Monday evening and I’m going shopping with Baz for a new suit for the Mid-Summer Gala. I still want to go, especially after Sunday. In the afterglow of virtually a weekend in bed together, I gathered my courage and asked Baz who my family was. Where I came from. 

Lady Salisbury had been by my bedside when I woke up. I keep thinking about that and wondering why she didn’t say anything. Did she always know about me? Did my mother - her daughter - not want me. 

The Mage was my father. I’m not touching that one yet. I can’t. I killed him. No, nope, that can be discussed during a therapy session. That thought is going to be locked up into a small box and shoved away until I can better deal with it. If I’ll ever be able to deal with it.

I have so many questions. 

Baz is holding different materials up against me, his gray eyes narrowed and there’s a small frown on his face as he decides which color works best with me. Honestly, I don’t care, but I want to look good with him. I want us to look like we belong together.

“Burgundy would look lovely on you,” Baz comments, more to himself than to me. 

I don’t think he’s thinking I’m paying attention. He’s kind of in the zone, like when he plays football. He’s got that same look of intense concentration. The same look he had when he was figuring out the best ways to have me writhe underneath him. (I really should not be thinking about that while in a public setting.)

He’s got a burgundy colored suit in his arms, the color is similar to how my dragon wings were. I wonder if Baz realizes that. It’s a little shiny, and the lapel is black, he wants me to have it hemmed and cropped at the ankle. A white shirt and skinny black tie to go with it, I feel entirely too modern in it. 

“This isn’t too casual?” I ask him, there’s not even a vest. Until Baz seems to have materialized one out of thin air. The vest is black and matches the lapel. I take a look at myself in the mirror. There’s not much to complain about, the color really does work, I look tanner. More caramel brown than golden. My hair looks brighter too, but my eyes appear almost an ocean blue instead of their usual shade, probably reflecting off of the red. 

Baz is glancing at me up and down in, he’s got his fingers pressed to his mouth as he thinks, “you’ll need cufflinks. You can borrow some of mine if you’d like.”

“I would like that, yeah,” I smile at him. It’s just us in the dressing room, so I take the chance and lean up to him to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

He rolls his eyes at me, but it’s all for show, I can tell how pleased he is. “You’d be hopeless without me.”

“That’s true,” I agree. 

Baz rolls his eyes again, but only because I can tell that he wants to blush. 

He gets a suit that’s such a dark purple that it looks black. He looks amazing in it, of course. Baz looks amazing in anything. (Baz looks amazing naked too, which, again, isn't something I should be thinking about in public.) 

“We’ll be the best looking couple to attend,” Baz says after he pays. I try to pay but he says it’s my birthday gift. Which, well, I can’t fight about since I’ll be wearing it on my actual birthday. I want to make a joke about it being my birthday suit, but I doubt he’d appreciate it. (For the record - Shepard would have found it hilarious.)

We decide on stopping at a local restaurant for dinner, even though I love it when Baz cooks. I insist on paying. 

“Do you think I should wait before I reach out to her?” I ask Baz once we’ve ordered. We’re sitting across from each other in a corner booth. I’m fiddling with my cutlery. 

“Do you want to reach out to her?” Baz asks. I’m glad that I don’t have to explain to him what I mean, I’m glad that he’s automatically on the same page as me. Although he’s probably been thinking about it as much as I have. 

I shrug. Our server comes with our waters, she offers us a friendly smile before telling us that our appetizers and food will be out shortly. 

I lean forward with my elbows on the table, “I have a lot of questions.”

“Understandable,” Baz nods. 

“And, it would be nice to know of any medical issues that run - that runs in the family,” I stuttered. 

Baz nods again, “of course.”

“You’re entirely too calm about this,” I say. I can feel my eyebrows furrow and my mouth pucker into a pout. 

“Simon,” Baz says, “this is all in your hands. I can be there with you if you’d like when you - if you decide on visiting Lady Salisbury. The decision is entirely yours, I’m just here to support whenever you decide.”

I can feel a surge of warmth towards Baz then. I love him. I love him so much that it hurts sometimes, and sometimes - like now - it’s almost unbearable. He’s just so good. Crowley, he’s good. 

I nod and swallow down a sip of water. He’s right, it’s entirely up to me. But I’m going to the same gala that Ruth Salisbury is throwing, and I’m not going to be rude to her there - and I don’t want to cause a scene there. No, I should rather get this all out of the way now.

“Would you happen to know how I can get in contact with her?” I ask. My voice comes out small. Insecurity laced throughout my tone, and it’s obvious. 

Baz’s face softens. “I can ask Daphne. I’ll text her right now.”

“Oh, it can wait!” I say, but it’s a lie. Even if we don’t get the information tonight, the first step is being made. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Snow,” Baz sneers at me. Or attempts to sneer, he’s lost his touch. 

Our meals are brought to us then. I have a bowl of noodle soup and Baz has a steak that makes my mouth water. I can’t wait until I can eat real food again, not that the noodles aren’t the best thing that I’ve had in a few days, but still. 

It’s nice though, sitting with Baz at a restaurant, sharing a meal. When was the last time that we did this? I suppose this could be considered a date, right? We went out for a meal a few weeks ago. I’m thinking this is our third official date. 

Merlin, we shagged before we even reached our third date. I never saw myself as that sort of bloke.

We’re waiting for the receipt for our meal when Baz’s phone pings. 

He pulls it out and stares at the screen with a bored expression. Which means that he’s faking it and is interested. I can tell because he does this thing with his eyebrow where it wants to rise but he fights against it. 

“What?” I ask him. 

“Daphne sent me the information,” Baz says in a collected voice. I suppose it helps that he’s so good at acting cool all the time. 

My heart is in my throat, “that was fast.”

“I’m forwarding the text to you now,” Baz says as my phone buzzes in my back pocket. 

Our server comes back with my card and the receipt for me to sign and then we’re off, walking to Baz’s car from where it’s parked in the magical parking spot that he created. 

That’s another thing to my list. My magic. Crowley, I’m such a mess. Will I ever not be a mess? It’s getting a little ridiculous now.

  
  


**BAZ**

Snowflake [03:30]: So she agreed to meet up for lunch with me. I called her before I got into work today.

Snowflake [03:30]: I’m so fucking nervous, Baz. I wish you could come but you’re gonna be working, and I don’t think taking Pen is a good idea because you know she’s not a people-person. I don’t need her offending my grandmother.

Snowflake [03:34]: Fuck, Lady Salisbury is my grandmum. It’s weird.

Snowflake [03:34]: I met her son, Oliver, too. He’s my uncle.

Snowflake [03:35]: This is all so weird.

Snowflake [03:35]: I don’t want to go, but I made these plans. I don’t want her to think I’m a fuck up. 

Snowflake [03:36]: You’re fast asleep. Wish you were awake right now. I can imagine “pull yourself together, Snow. She’s just an old lady. You’re not a fuck up.” I’m saying all of this in my best Basilton impression FYI. 

Snowflake [04:11]: Just got home, for some reason Shepard is wide awake and watching the Harry Potter films?

Snowflake [04:25]: I’m going to sleep. Have a wonderful day, darling.

Baz [07:47]: You’re a fucking disaster, Simon Snow. But I love you, and you’ll do fine at lunch with Lady Salisbury. She’s kind, she enjoys overfeeding people and she makes hilarious bawdy jokes. You’ll like her, and she’ll love you.

Baz [07:48]: And if she doesn’t like you, then I’ll drain her dry and incinerate her body. 

Snowflake [12:01]: You say the sweetest things to me.

Baz [12:01]: I assume you’re at the restaurant? 

Snowflake [12:02]: Yeah, she’s not here yet. 

Snowflake [12:02]: What if she stands me up?

Baz [12:03]: She won’t, she’s always late.

Snowflake [12:03]: She’s here! She brought Oliver! Fuck! I knew I should have brought Penelope!

Baz [12:04]: Need I remind you that you slew a fucking dragon when you were 11? You fought a bunch of magical creatures and vampires without having any magic. You defeated the Humdrum! You defeated Abbadon! You’re a courageous fuck and I love you, you can do this.

Snowflake [12:05]: I love you. I’ll text you when we’re done.

“Everything alright?” Dev asks from his seat across from me, we’re out at lunch together again. He’s got another salad before him, although he’s been frowning at it the entire time. 

“Tip-top,” I answer before eating my steak sandwich. So maybe I’ve been ordering them every time I go out with Dev to sort of rub it in his face. Just a little. 

I ask him how things are with Phillipa and if he’s heard from Niall recently. Dev loves to talk, once he’s started it’s easy to just go along with it. Phillipa is, apparently, “the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, Basil.” and Niall is “a bloody prat”, though I’m only half paying attention as to why. My mind is on Simon, and I hope that he’s doing okay. I hope his lunch is going well. 

**RUTH**

He’s wearing a blue button-down shirt and jeans, his hair is a mess of curls that fall across his forehead and makes me have the maternal urge to move them off of his face. I don’t, of course. 

Simon stands once he sees me and Oliver approach, and he doesn’t sit back down until after I’ve seated. He has manners. Or at least he tries to. 

“I’ve um - I’ve already asked the server for cups of water and Earl Grey,” Simon has a stutter. His ears are reddening and I bite down the urge to smile. He’s so bubbly and young. 

“That sounds good,” Oliver says. With the two of them sitting close to one another it’s easier to see the resemblance between them. I wish I would have known about Simon sooner. “Hope you weren’t waiting for too long.”

Simon shakes his head, “um - no. No, sir.”

“Ah, please don’t call me ‘sir’,” Oliver smiles warmly. He’s good with children, although Simon is a young man. Oliver is still young himself, in his forties, spry, and I’ve been pushing him to find a wife and make me grandchildren for years. He’s gone on dates, but nothing has come to fruition. “You can call me Oliver.”

“Right,” Simon says, “sorry.”

It’s awkward, I’m nervous, my son is nervous and Simon is nervous. We shouldn’t be nervous. We should be comfortable around each other, we’re family, but I know that will take time. And it may never be quite the way I would want it to be. 

Our server comes back with our beverages and takes our orders, she also brings a basket of bread and butter for the table. 

“Take some,” I offer to Simon, “you look peaky. Use as much butter as you’d like, we can always ask for more.”

Simon gives me a shy smile and it feels like we’re off to a good start. 

“So,” I start after taking a leisurely sip of my tea, “tell me about you and Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

Simon’s face flushes as he chokes on his bread mid-bite.

“Mother,” Oliver admonishes, he’s got a hand covering his face. As if I don’t embarrass him daily. (As if he’s not amused by my antics). 

“Oh God,” Simon drinks from his cup of water. He swears like a Normal then, that’s interesting. “I was not expecting that question, at all.”

“How could you not?” I ask him as I raise both brows at him. “Was it a secret?”

“No!” Simon shakes his head. 

“Mother, why not ask something less personal?” Oliver huffs, almost as if silently apologizing to Simon. “What do you do for a living, Simon?”

“Uh,” Simon swallows, “I’m a bartender at a popular nightclub. What do you do?”

Oliver very obviously slides his gaze over to me before moving them back over to Simon, “I ensure that my mother stays out of trouble. I can assure you that it’s a full-time job.”

  
  


**SIMON**

Lunch isn’t bad, Ruth Salisbury is quite funny, funnier than I would have thought an old lady would be. Admittedly I don’t know may older women, just like I don’t know many small children. Growing up in group and foster homes meant that meeting people’s grandmothers pretty much never happened. And there aren’t any really old people at Watford.

Not that Lady Salisbury is old! I’m thinking she’s probably in her late sixties or early seventies. She looks great. Her hair is a pale blonde, she has some wrinkles but not much, she’s sturdy looking. Stocky. (Honestly, she looks like she could handle her own against a group of dark creatures, that’s for sure.) She and I have the same blue eyes. 

“If you’d like,” Ruth touched my arm before she left, she smelled like roses. “You should come by the house next time, I could show you photos or videos of your mother.”

That caused a lump to form in my throat. 

Am I ready to see what my mother looked like?

Oliver looks sort of like me, like a softer version of me. With fewer moles and a different nose. We have the same coloring though. We’re the same height, I’m a bit wider than him. It’s weird to see someone I’m related to. I’ve never experienced this before. I met Lady Salisbury twice before, when I was a boy, but only in passing. 

Still, she’s offering me the chance to see what my mother looked like. Of course, I agree, why wouldn’t I agree? My mother’s name was Lucy, and Ruth thinks that she died a little after I was born. Which makes sense, I guess. Ruth is convinced that Lucy would have never given me up, that Lucy wasn’t that type of person and would have fought tooth and nail before anyone took me from her. Oliver said that Lucy was powerful, one of the most powerful magicians ever. They said that they'd give me her magical instrument if they could - a topaz ring. But she had it with her when she ran off with - with Him. 

He left me his house in Wales. I’ve never gone up there, I’ve never gone through his belongings. It may be there. The house has been left to rot these last five years. Maybe I could convince Baz and Penny to take a trip with me soon, just to go through his stuff and see how he made me the way he did. Why he made me the way he did. If he had Lucy’s topaz ring. Her ring would probably be more compatible with my magic than his wand was. I don’t even know where my bloody wand is anymore. And the Crystal Violin disintegrated after I killed Abbadon.

Ruth, Oliver, and I part after two hours of chatting. They seem nice. They’re rich, as rich as the Grimm’s and the Pitch’s, but they don’t come across that way. Their family is small, just Ruth and Oliver, and me I guess. 

They asked me if I was going to the gala and I told them that I was. It’s just next week, on my birthday. I don’t tell them that part, they don’t need to know that it’s my birthday. 

I make plans to see them again soon and then make my way home for a nap before work. 

Simon [14:11]: It went well.

Gampire [14:11]: I’m glad.

Simon [14:12]: I’m going to see her again soon. She wants to show me photos of my Mum.

Gampire [14:12]: That great, Simon.

Simon [14:13]: Will you come with me next time?

Gampire [14:13]: Of course, you don’t have to ask.

Simon [14:14]: You’ve gone soft, Basil.

Gampire [14:14]: Sod off. 

I grin. I have a lot to talk about with my therapist this week.


	20. Chapter 20

**SIMON**

My eyes snap open and my heart is going a mile a minute. Sunlight is trying to peek from behind my heavy drapes and I rub my face, trying to calm myself down. Nightmares aren’t something that I’m unfamiliar with. Sometimes they’re worse than that - most of the time anyway. My therapist says that they’re normal, I’m a victim of intense trauma, my mind will forever be attempting to cope.

My shoulder blades ache as if I had been flying rigorously in my sleep. I haven’t, but the tenderness is there. My wings. Red and scaly and black-tipped. Familiar nightmares on their own, I hadn’t realized exactly how much I’ve missed them. Flying is something I’ll always cherish having the experience of. I miss flying. I miss how easily accessible the freedom of it was.

The flat is silent. I can hear the creaks and moans of the building, but nothing unusual. I’m home alone, which is typical for most days. 

I stare at my ceiling fan, it’s spinning lazily, and I try to focus on individual blades. 

Today is my birthday. 

I’m officially twenty-four years old. 

Baz sent me a text earlier asking me to pick up our freshly tailored suits. My phone tells me that it’s not yet eleven in the morning. This is earlier than I typically wake up, but that dream - the memory, is still playing behind my lids whenever I attempt to close my eyes for a few more hours of sleep. 

I shoot a text to Baz telling him that I’ll do it since he’s at work. And he’s paid for them. I owe him, I don’t care that he says it’s his birthday gift to me, it’s too generous considering we’ve only started dating. Again. We’ve only started to get to know one another again after a few years apart. Though I suppose we did grow up together, we, well, my feelings for Baz are complicated. I love him, Merlin, I love him so much. I’ve loved him since that Christmas. I’ve loved him since before then, I think I’ve loved him since fifth year. 

Thinking about Baz calms me down a bit as I get dressed and make myself a protein shake for breakfast. They’re disgusting and I’d much rather gorge on something butter infused, but I’ve been trying to stay healthy for two years now and it’s doing me well. 

I put on track shorts and beat up trainers and my old Watford hoodie before grabbing my keys and wallet and leaving the flat.

  
  


**BAZ**

“Give me your wrist, love,” I say to Simon. It’s Friday evening and we’re at his flat getting ready for the gala. Penny and Shepard agreed to carpool with us. With me. 

I’ve brought cufflinks for him to use. He hates them, says that they’ll be a pain in the ass to take off later. I tell him that it doesn’t matter that it’s his birthday, he can stop being a barbarian for one night. That earns me a swat on the bum when I walk past him. 

Simon smells of my cologne, and it’s oddly arousing to have my scent on him. He decided to use the soap that I left in his bathroom when I was over a few days ago. His hair is combed with a heavy part and is as neat as it’ll get. He’s freshly shaved and broad-shouldered and I want to run my hands all over his body. Preferably followed by my mouth. We can do that later tonight, we can celebrate his birthday in all sorts of ways.

“I’m surprised that you haven’t shaved,” Simon says to me, his fingers brush against the shadow that’s along my jawline and cheeks. 

It’s a neatly trimmed beard, I feel like it makes me look distinguished. Plus I know that it drives Simon mad with lust. I’m manipulative enough to be aware that my looking like this will get me whatever I want from him. (I mean, I would get whatever I want regardless, but the extra incentive doesn’t hurt.)

“I like it,” Simon says. 

I raise a brow at him just to watch his face flush prettily. I can feel my mouth tilt into a smirk against my will.

“Shut up,” Simon manages to bluster. His ears are now coloring to the same shade of pink as his face.

“Basil!” Penny’s voice calls from her bedroom down the hallway. “Can you please help me? I’m having a zipper crisis.”

“Why doesn’t she just use magic?” Simon asks, his brow furrowed. I lean down to kiss him, pleased when he smiles against my mouth. He hums pleasantly against me, we break apart when Penelope calls for me a second time. “Better go before she remembers she’s a mage and forces you to go over there.”

I sigh and leave him alone, hoping that he doesn’t somehow make a mess of himself before we leave the flat. 

The zipper crisis is code for Penelope Bunce somehow destroyed the zipper and didn’t know any sewing spells to repair it. Agatha helped her pick out a gown, thank Merlin, and once I’ve managed to close the seam with a simple “ **Stitch Fix** ”, she looks magnificent. 

“Do you need help with your hair as well?” I can’t help but ask. 

Penelope shoots me an annoyed glance as she spells her unruly nest of curls into something smoother and glossier. “I at least know how to do that, but thank you for helping me. You look handsome.”

“As usual,” I smirk. 

“Cocky,” Penny frowns. 

“Confident,” I correct her and then grin as she rolls her eyes at me. Life has been a bit shit this summer (perhaps longer than that, perhaps it’s been a shitty few years), but tonight I’m happy. I’m so happy that I’m terrified of when the other shoe will drop.

  
  


**SIMON**

The gala is intimidatingly fancy. I mean, I should have expected that, since it’s a fucking gala. Still, I don’t feel as if I belong here. Baz teased me in the car stating that I’m next in line to be a Duke if my uncle doesn’t have children. There are so many things about that comment that leaves me feeling as if we’re in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Oliver is a Duke. He’s a Lord. Lord Salisbury.

I’ve always seen the Pitch’s and Grimms as magical royalty (everyone does), but so are the Salisbury’s. Not as old, but almost. If Oliver is a Duke and I’m his heir, does that make me a viscount? It’s all confusing and so I’m not thinking about it. It’s not that important. 

What’s odd is that I have an uncle and a grandmother. I can’t see Lady Salisbury and her son as my family - I know that she wants me to. I know that they’re trying their hardest to make me feel comfortable and like I belong. But I just, I don’t know, I can’t - I won’t - I don’t know. To allow myself that is so strange. I’ve made my family, Penny is my family. Shepard and Agatha are my family. Baz is my family. 

The Salisbury’s are nice though, they’re overly kind to me and I don’t think that they want anything from me other than my time. I don’t mind visiting them or speaking with them. 

Baz takes me by my elbow and leads me to our table. It’s large and sits at least fourteen. Fiona is already there, drinking a flute of champagne. She’s wearing a black dress and red lipstick and honestly I can see a lot of Baz in her when she throws us a shark-like smile. 

The Wellbelove's are already there, Penny takes her seat beside Agatha. 

The hall that Lady Salisbury is using for this is owned by her family. By my family. It’s ritzy, with shiny white marble floors, cream-colored walls, high ceilings with gold moldings and massive gold chandeliers. I can’t quite get my head around how much money the Salisbury’s have.

“I heard that Elspeth will be here tonight,” Agatha says to Penny. 

I’m staring down at my name card that’s before my empty plate (it’s white with gold trim, even the cutlery is gold).  _ Simon Snow _ . I’m relieved that they didn’t put the name Salisbury on it. My feelings on the concept of family are complicated. 

There’s a string band playing in the corner of the room, and a stage that’s raised a little higher. Probably for the auction. I’m not sure what’s being auctioned, but the proceeds are going back into Watford, so I don’t care. 

“Fuck,” Baz hisses to himself as he sees a couple come in and make a beeline for our table. 

I glance over at him and then turn to see who he’s looking like he wants to hide from. 

“Is that Phillipa Stainton?” I ask, my jaw dropped. She’s on the arm of Dev Grimm. They make a good-looking couple. Phillipa looks great, she’s filled out nicely and has a bright smile on her face as she approaches us. I haven’t seen her since fifth year (I haven’t thought about her much either if I’m honest. Which is a bit shit of me since she lost her voice because of me and Baz.)

“Yes,” Baz pastes a smile onto his face so he’s answering me through clenched teeth, “she’s dating Dev now.”

“Gross,” Agatha says from her seat. Penny snorts from beside her. I suppose it’s a good thing that Mrs. Wellbelove is too busy socializing to notice how rude her daughter is behaving. 

“Guys, come on,” I say. 

“Isn’t she the girl who stalked you that one year?” Shepard asks me.

I open my mouth to speak but shrug and give him a sheepish look. 

“I didn’t know this was going to be a reunion,” Agatha mumbles, but she also manages to put a pleasant expression on her face. 

Reluctance is going to be the tone for the night. Lovely. 

“Hello everyone,” Dev’s says, walking up to our table before any other comments were made. 

I hate making polite conversation. I’m bad at it and never know the correct thing to say.

The men at our table stand as a chair is pulled out for Phillipa. Oh, they’re sitting with us. I can practically hear both Baz and Agatha’s internal groans.

I stay standing behind my seat, dinner won’t be served for another twelve minutes according to the fancy watch Baz is letting me borrow. “I’m going to get a drink from the bar, anyone want anything?”

Perhaps going to the bar wasn’t the better alternative. Older men are chatting there, Fiona is speaking to someone in the corner. Ew, is she flirting? Gross. 

Baz seems to materialize beside me. Silent and graceful, and I would have been spooked if I weren’t already used to him and suspicious of him always appearing. Some things are hard to let go of, and me thinking that Baz is always going to turn up is one of them. I look at him from the corner of my eye.

“Whiskey, neat,” he says to the bartender. 

“Did you seriously just cut in front of me?” I frown at him before the bartender looks over at me.

He turns to face me fully and, fuck me. Baz with a beard. I am too weak for this. He’s handsome and he knows that he’s handsome and I’m torn between punching his perfect face and jumping on him. 

“Did I?” He asks with a perfect tilt of his brow. “Perhaps you’re just too slow, Snow.”

I grin sharply at him. He’s goading me. Flirting with me. 

“Act your age, Pitch,” I say.

“Which would be younger than you,” Baz says. He thanks the bartender for his drink, puts a tip in the jar and saunters away. Only to get pulled into a conversation by his father on the way back to the table. Serves him right. 

  
  


**PENNY**

Dinner is ostentatious, this is not my scene. It’s entirely too decadent and the rational part of me is disgusted by how much money everyone is just throwing around. It’s for a good cause, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it makes me feel ill.

Luckily the auction is over quick enough and the after-party of it starts. People are dancing and drinking and socializing. It’s a good way to network, to rub elbows with the stronger families. Although some of my best friend’s are heirs to the most powerful magical families in England. I think I’m fairly well connected. 

Shepard asks me to dance and I don’t hesitate to say yes. I've got a few glasses of wine in me and I’m feeling good. Tomorrow we’ve all agreed to have a small surprise party for Simon at the flat. I’ve already ordered the cake from his favorite bakery. 

“Have I told you yet how fantastic you look?” Shepard asks me as he takes my hand in his. His palms are warm and his fingers almost seem to cradle mine. I can feel the heat of his other hand on my waist.

I can’t help but smile at him, it’s larger than I would have given him on a normal day, but I’m tipsy and I’m happy. I’m so happy. “You can tell me as many times as you’d like.”

He laughs and it causes me to laugh too. 

“Well, I’ll remember to do that,” he says as he twirls me around. 

Shepard is a decent dancer, and I can’t help but wonder where he learned how to waltz. I learned at Watford, it was one of our mandatory classes in third year. I remember having to help Simon with his two left feet and being paired with Baz once only to realize that he’s amazing at anything he puts his mind to (the git).

I can’t help but lean a little more into Shepard. Crowley, I love him. 

  
  


**AGATHA**

I’m so glad that Phillipa dragged Dev out onto the dance floor. Nothing is quite as uncomfortable as my ex-roommate (whom I’ve despised because she was a fucking bully to me for dating Simon) and the boy who used to have the largest crush on me (second to Simon) sitting at our table after not seeing either of them since school.

I watch the couples out on the floor. Elspeth is dancing with Martin Potts of all people. I’m glad that they’ve remained friends with each other. Martin had asked that I save a dance for him later, which is fine, I’ll go out there with him and see how he’s been these last few years. Being here is sort of like a Watford reunion, and I kind of hate it. I fucked off out of England when I was eighteen, and at twenty-three I was reluctant to come back. My mother is thrilled that I’m interacting with the other mages, she looks so happy, and it’s just for one night so I grin and bear it. 

Tomorrow will be junk food and terrible movies or board games at Penny’s. Then on Sunday, I’ll fly back home. 

I’m sitting at the table, refusing nearly every man who’s come up to ask me to dance. Except for my father, and Baz (I did two dances with him before sitting with Simon). 

Currently, Baz is dancing with his step-mum. He’s smiling fondly down at her and it warms his face. It’s a good look on him. He’s gotten better with age, and I've got a feeling he hasn’t even hit his physical prime yet. 

Simon is watching them longingly. We were talking about the latest episode of Dr. Who. That’s something that I miss about Simon, how easily we get on. We chat without really thinking about what we’re talking about, we argue and joke and laugh at each other. We grew up together and we’re best friends and it’s so obvious how he’s only been half paying attention to our conversation. 

“Simon,” I say as I place my champagne flute down on top of the table, “are you sure about trying again with Baz?” I’m not asking because I don’t want them together. I’m asking because someone needs to, not that it’s any of my business. It’s not. But I feel like asking is something a good friend would do, should do, and I’ve been a pretty shit friend within recent years. 

His blue eyes snap over to me and I can immediately see the resemblance between him and the photo of Lucy that I have. I need to remember to mail the picture to him once I’m back home. 

“Why - why are you asking me this?” Simon turns his body toward me.

“Why aren’t you dancing with him?” I ask instead. 

Simon gives me a confused look, “I - what?”

I make a show of rolling my eyes at him, which causes him to roll his in return. 

“Why aren’t you dancing with him?” I repeat. 

“Yes, I’m sure about Baz, Merlin, Agatha,” Simon huffs, “and I'm crap at dancing.”

He’s not wrong. He’s a little clumsy, which is odd because in a fight Simon is fierce and sure-footed. He knows the steps to the dances, but he’s not the best at them. He kind of bumbles along. He always bumbles along, with the grace of an elephant. 

“That doesn’t mean that he won’t be delighted to have you out there with him,” I say. 

His face is pink and he’s chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully, “I hate you.” He doesn’t mean a word of that. Simon loves me, not in the way that either of us thought we would love each other when we were children, but in a way that works for us and in the right way.

“Shut up.”

“Remember that one time in sixth year when you let me use your mirror to spy on Baz?” Simon asks. 

“You mean how you used it without my permission?” I ask. I do remember, it was winter holiday and he was over at my house. I caught him with the mirror in the living room. Baz had been reading to his younger sisters, we couldn’t hear his voice but we could see how the children were enraptured by whatever story he was telling, and how he would dramatically turn the pages. I think we both watched him for a little longer than was appropriate after I caught Simon spying. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I’ve been in love with him for a long time,” Simon says. I don’t know what to say to that, he and I were dating at the time that incident happened. In retrospect, I should not have found it remotely heterosexual for my boyfriend to be staring and watching another boy like that. “What I feel for him is all-consuming. It’s terrifying.”

I have never felt what Simon is describing. I don’t think I’m capable of it, and I’ve gotten comfortable with that. With my inability to feel romantic inclinations. I like people just fine, but love? Hearing Simon speak about it though makes my insides warm. I’m legitimately happy for him.

And then I say something that I’ve been wanting to say to Simon for years. Something that he probably needs to hear, and it exposes me more than I want it to, but I can’t help it. 

“Simon, if there was ever one thing I could give you - anything in the world - it would be confidence. I’ve seen you slay a dragon when we were eleven. I’ve seen you face down hordes of dark creatures, kill selkies and goblins, face off against vampires with no magic. You’re brave. When it comes to love - when it comes to Baz - well. He’s right there, he’s always been right there. All you have to do is have the confidence to reach out and grab him.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Simon says. 

“It is not,” I say, but I’m not sure. It probably is. Simon doesn’t surround himself with nice people, now that I think about it. Shepard is probably the nicest friend that he has, and that’s because it’s Shepard.

“Confidence,” Simon repeats. He nods to himself again, he then stands up, “excuse me, Aggie.”

“Don’t call me that!” I call after him, but I can’t help the smile that’s creeps up my face.

  
  


**SIMON**

“Do you mind if I cut in?” I ask Mrs. Grimm and Baz. 

“Not at all,” Baz says, and he looks like he’s about to hand his step-mother over to me but I grab his wrist and give him a meaningful look. 

Daphne giggles and excuses herself, telling us that she’ll dance more with us later. 

“You’re going to lead,” I say to Baz. He’s better at it than me. 

“Obviously,” Baz scoffs. His hand takes mine and puts us into position. 

As soon as he starts the band begins to play Into My Arms by Nick Cave. We smile at each other, it’s our song, it’s fate. It’s a further sign that we’re meant to be. Today is my birthday, but I can’t imagine being anywhere else than where I am, sick in love and happy. I’m so happy, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life. 

We sway together with ease.

“I was kinda hoping there would be sandwiches,” I say to Baz. The steak dinner was delicious, but he snuffles a laugh at the reference. 

“You’re hopeless,” Baz says to me, but his eyes are warm. 

“Yeah,” I agree, “hopeless for  _ you _ .” 

And then  _ he  _ kisses  _ me _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire fic in less than 5 weeks. I read Wayward Son and my brain went into overdrive - like a lot of writers did lol. Thank you to everyone who has read and have given this fic a shot. This journey was fun and it was awesome to see everyone's reactions with each chapter. 
> 
> Theme song to this fic is The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.

**Author's Note:**

> The soundtrack to this fic can be found **[here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5powS7tydkOdqlZ5rYw7vc)**!.
> 
> Come say hi to me on **[tumblr](https://xivz.tumblr.com/)**!


End file.
